


Grey Shades of Love

by slashaholic666 (queerlybeloved777)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Animagus, Asexuality Spectrum, Coming Out, F/M, Falling In Love, Identity Reveal, Muggle Studies, POV Severus Snape, Potions, Rats & Mice, Severus Snape Has a Heart, Sexuality Crisis, Trans Female Character, Transitioning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-08-11 07:20:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16471220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queerlybeloved777/pseuds/slashaholic666
Summary: Severus hasn’t been able to tell Albus that the death anniversary for his former friend and once love hasn’t carried the same weight as it once did. It wasn’t immediately following the Dark Lord’s defeat when everything still felt raw like he could’ve (should’ve) been able to change the Potters’ outcomes. Severus was finally teaching their son, and the incoming years of students were young enough to not have memories of the war. No matter how many times you poke and prod at a wound, it eventually scabs over and heals.. . .How a prickly Potions Master with an inactive Dark Mark came to be the friend of Charity Burbage, the Muggle Studies Professor, during the Interwar Years. Involves brewing experimental partial Transmogrification Potions, the Weasley’s pet rat Scabbers, and the maturity to realize when friends are better off not dating.





	1. The Peace Before The Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Fan theory that the unknown male Muggle Studies professor (fall 1991 - spring 1993) was Charity Burbage before she decided to publicly transition (Charles is used here as her former name), and she considered herself friends with Snape because he was involved in her initial access to Transmogrification Potion (stabilizes and maintains the enchantments that enable physical transitioning long-term; taken by wixen as an HRT proxy). I wrote Charity about 3 years younger than Severus and Remus (30 / early 30s) before checking her canon age (she’s been aged up here).
> 
> Spotify playlist for this fic can be found [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/0hvdzhl02n00wwqy4s865z4wo/playlist/3v0LxU4CCAaJO2dDWUGHhU?si=PErMujqMRnys3Il2_tV6lg).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus Snape and the year his former friend's son started Hogwarts. An altogether unremarkable year during which Severus tweaked the Vocal Transmogrification Potion for Charlie Burbage, enjoyed the winter holidays when the majority of students went home, mistrusted Quirrell, and did not get paid enough, especially to worry about Potter and his Gryffindor cohorts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Transmogrification Potion, a fair bit of the ingredients listed (such as cambinip), and brewing details (such as cauldron materials influencing brewing) are personal fan theory to pad out Potions. Most of Severus' colleagues will be referred to by their first names; while I think most of the characters are recognizable, Silvanus Kettleburn was Care of Magical Creatures Professor before Hagrid.
> 
> Non-canonical detail: Minerva has a wife named Theophania, who is briefly mentioned at Yule.

##### Winter 1991

“Severus”, Charlie’s voice cracked unexpectedly and reminded the Potions Master of some of his students fighting through puberty, but he cleared his throat and continued in the awkwardly flat tone of someone who was trying to sound neither high nor low pitched, “Your rat’s here.”

“How many times have I told you, Burbage?”, Severus squinted at his scales and nudged another piece of diced cambinip in his careful attempt to get to 50 grams exactly, voice low to prevent disrupting the scales with his breathing, “Scabbers belongs to the Weasley boy.”

“Hm-mm”, a roll of parchment rustled at one of the desks in the Potions classroom as Charlie graded an essay, “Those cat wards put themselves up all on their own, did they?”

“I need to keep Mrs. Norris from getting to the salmon eyes”, Severus gave the sea water in the cauldron an anti-clockwise stir and settled in to wait for the five minutes of simmering on low heat to tick by. The drawback to experimental tweaking of established brewing instructions was that the sheer number of variables took a while to rule out, but Professor Burbage’s rather hesitant request for assistance in finding a partially stabilizing Transmogrification Potion had stoked a curiosity that was stubbornly insisting on being thorough. The first brewers had only been intent on stabilizing the full body Transfiguration and maintaining the supportive enchantments to keep the drinker in their desired form for a full month, but this made the Transmogrification heavy handed for anyone wanting less than the full package. It had taken almost a whole month of stammering, blushing, and dragging each admission and clarification out of - _Charlie, not Charles_ \- to find out that he wanted to adjust his voice without the pain of phantom cramps, mood swings, or other side effects of trying to leave the rest of his body alone.

“Rowena help me”, Charlie muttered at a particularly haphazardly scrawled essay. He refilled his quill with bright red correction ink and boldly crossed out a whole paragraph, conversationally explaining why to the brown rat sitting on the edge of his desk cleaning itself, “Communicators are a fictional device and should not be included in the list of predecessors to the handheld mobile phone, Scabbers. Anyone who read the instructions on the syllabus would know I wanted an essay on the history of the telephone without Star Trek references.”

Severus couldn’t quite pitch his voice high enough to perfectly mimic the theme music, but he’d taken to humming the opening notes of Doctor Who after his fellow professor brought up telephones. The wizard stiffened and then scowled at Severus for doing so now. In his first year of teaching Muggle Studies, Professor Burbage had made the mistake of introducing cultural and artistic topics in the fall and the historical and scientific topics in the spring. Unfortunately for Charlie, this led to an inter-House prank involving the characteristic telephone box as the Tardis (Ravenclaws), an incredibly accurate army of daleks capable of minor dueling created from a menagerie of Transfigured found objects (Slytherins and Gryffindors), and a stirring rod that’s never been the same since it was the screwdriver for a few weeks (Hufflepuffs). The other Heads of the Houses were a little more on guard in the spring term but didn’t like to directly ask Charlie about the incident, while Severus chose to periodically keep him on his toes.

“I think you’ve put him a mood by not saying hello to him first, Scabs”, Charlie shooed the rat from where he’d started nibbling on the edge of someone’s roll of parchment, and it didn’t take him long to scurry off the desk and make his way to the front of the class where Severus was working at the demonstration table. He’d been wary of approaching ever since that damn three-headed dog had gotten a swipe on Hallowe’en, and Severus suspected whatever was in its saliva that limited what Madam Pomfrey could do to heal his leg was also making Scabbers nervous. It was either that or he had developed an aversion to something else he could still smell on Severus’ robes, and other than a little chat with Quirrell, he hadn’t done much other than organize his personal ingredients storage and poke at this Transmogrification experiment today. Despite his own misgivings on why the shy man had taken a year off for Dark Arts studying in the field, Quirrell had taught Muggle Studies before Burbage took over, so Severus doubted the rat had suddenly forgotten one of the staff.

“Mind the knives”, Severus slowly added the diced cambinip to the cauldron and let the pale white taproot sink to the bottom before stirring once clockwise. Scabbers ascended the table leg and sniffed along Severus’ left wrist before checking out the bottles and notes spread along the work table. It had made Severus uncomfortable when the rat initially did that and focused so intently on his left arm, but Minerva had explained that Dark magic, including his immobile and faded to a grey Dark Mark, has a particular smell for animals. Much to his surprise, the best way she could translate the description from a feline perspective was ‘mulchy like the undergrowth in a forest, but an ancient old growth one’. Given how sensitive rodent noses were, Severus couldn’t blame the creature for its curiosity, and after years of Percival bringing him to Hogwarts, it had transformed into part of Scabbers’ greeting. The rat was far more affectionate than he’d expected a rodent to be, but he’d also been caught off guard by its cleanliness, having never known a rat could spend several hours in a day grooming much like a cat would. It had been in the midst of an awkward dance of trying to dislodge a grooming rat from his lap in the staff break room that Silvanus had casually mentioned it was a sign of trust, and unfortunately, the Care of Magical Creatures professor hadn’t been hit in the head recently so he wasn’t spouting nonsense. Even a well placed threat about chopping Scabbers’ tail off to add to the storeroom inventory of rat tails hadn’t been able to drive the rat away, but the surly Potions professor hadn’t had the heart to follow through, though he did still occasionally wonder why he let the rat visit, “Scabbers, sniffing round the belladonna juice could knock you out.”

Severus shooed him off the open text discussing cauldron materials and their latent magical affinities before Scabbers could start gnawing on the pages. Many beginning brewers thought the cauldron materials were only relevant to the types of fires and temperatures needed for brewing a particular potion (if they even realized there were more choices than the standard pewter), but he’d been wondering if the Transmogrification would be more stable with a bronze cauldron. Or perhaps the plummeting temperatures outside were simply putting him in a bronze mood? That had been hard to describe to his university advisor, gravitating towards certain cauldrons as the seasons changed. A squeak near his elbow drew Severus’ attention to Scabbers, who had carried a common toad egg from the bowl of the prepped ingredients. He’d been debating reducing the amount of common toad eggs so the temperature could be increased, but altering too many variables in a brew made it hard to figure out which worked and this brew was based around adjusting the cambinip. He was quite certain the rat couldn’t read his notes, but he had moments where he wasn’t sure when it would do something clever like this. Severus gave Scabbers a scratch behind the ears for his efforts, “Those have to wait until it’s done simmering unless you want an explosion, and it would spoil Burbage’s day to have to scrape you off the walls.”

##### Yule 1991

 _Ah, silence_ , Severus took a sip of his hot chocolate and settled into the armchair before the fireplace in his private quarters. The castle had emptied considerably for the winter holidays, and it was a relief to not have to deal with the students for a little while. He still had to be presentable for meals, but otherwise, there was nothing stopping him from lounging in a faded t-shirt and sweats while avoiding today’s allotment of essays to grade for just a little longer. Neither Severus’ office nor his room were what the other staff would call festive, but the only fond memories he had of the holidays were from the times he’d stayed at Hogwarts (Christmas meant a bonus which meant more money for bottles which meant a drunk Tobias through the New Year). A poinsettia he had Preserved rather than risk it dying sat on the mantle - a gift from Pomona his first year teaching - next to a collection of Yule, Christmas, generic holiday, and Hanukkah cards from various colleagues through the years. Filius had enchanted a metal wind chime to play seasonal music for his second year, and its collection had slowly grown each year into a random assortment of Wizarding and Muggle carols.

This year’s holiday post was rather small: A year’s worth of a homemade tea blend for relaxation courtesy of Theophania because Minerva’s wife insisted on making it for all of her colleagues (he would have to send his customary thank you note before the New Year). A vial with the remaining unicorn blood collected by Silvanus (once properly filtered, it could be added to the shelves of rarer potions ingredients) was wrapped in one of his quirky creature and holly wrapping papers (this year’s looked like flobberworms in Santa hats). The dependable letter from Poppy that he was looking forward to because while not a Potions Mistress herself, she asked interesting theory questions while trying to search for more effective options for the students (they weren’t going to revolutionize Pepper Up, but they were perfecting a version safe for chronic use, which was anything more than once a week). She had also worked her way through the staff to him this year in her effort to knit someone a gift as a supposedly relaxing hobby (the pale violet scarf did look nice, and he would have to remember to wear it on the first staff outing to The Three Broomsticks once term resumed). He had also finally earned his hand drafted star chart from Aurora for reaching his tenth year on staff (he requested two bordering constellations of the Lacaille family, Norma and Circinus). Albus had simply signed off on his usual parcel (a 24 hour candle for Lily’s death anniversary), which left a final box from Burbage.

Severus wasn’t surprised by the pouch with a compensatory fee because he could only attribute a small percentage of the ingredient costs of the Transmogrification Potion to the Hogwarts Potions Fund. He scowled at the Porta-Maze (52 adjustable routes with beginner, intermediate, and advanced customization) and a copy of _The Beginner’s Guide to Fancy Rats_ underneath a Christmas card with a rat that did indeed look fancy compared to the common brown rat they had in common wearing a Santa hat. Charlie was suffering from some sort of delusion that Severus might want to offer the Porta-Maze or some other toy to Scabbers. Ronald had inherited the rat from Percival, so Severus did not see a point in doing any such thing (it was not his job to offer enrichment, or gods forbid, _play_ with Scabbers because that was what his owner should be doing). Although, seeing as he had found a nest of shredded parchment in a box he’d held onto under his bed after ordering a new collapsible cauldron and he strongly suspected the scratching sounds at night the past few days were because a certain rat didn’t go home for the holidays, Severus couldn’t bring himself to bin either object. Perhaps he could figure out a way to offer the Porta-Maze so Scabbers wouldn’t intrude into his workspace while brewing without making it look like he was encouraging this idea of quasi-ownership?

##### Spring 1992

The blankets at the end of his bed rustled, and Severus pushed his long black hair out of his eyes to see Scabbers scurrying across the bed towards the pillow. He sighed because he knew grousing at the rat wouldn’t stop it, and it had managed to get past yet another night’s wards in his office to his private rooms. Ever since that Potter boy had come across the dying unicorn during his detention in the Forbidden Forest, Scabbers had been acting odd. His grooming had escalated into slight bald patches forming on his front wrists, and from what Severus had been able to read in _The Beginner’s Guide to Fancy Rats_ , self barbering could be a sign of stress or boredom. He didn’t know what Ronald was doing (or not doing since it was often outside of the Gryffindor Tower), but the rat had started to drop by his room to sleep, even after he’d gotten rid of the nest and tried to cast wards against rodents. Admittedly, it wasn’t the first time Scabbers had done this over the years, but he usually only visited for a bit at the start of the fall and spring terms after coming back from the Burrow. Whatever had happened with the unicorn had spooked the rat into stopping by every night since, and it was almost the end of term. Scabbers seemed to like curling up on the pillow near his head, which was better than the alternative of laying on him, so Severus was finding it hard to remain upset by each subsequent visit recently. He certainly didn’t have strong feelings for the rat or desire to take over ownership from the Weasley family, but he just might have grown a little fond of it. Not that he would ever admit that to anyone, of course. He had a reputation to maintain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is not written from the pov of the trans character, so the narrative pov is limited to what Severus knows. This means I did not make a mistake by using he / him pronouns in this chapter while Burbage is asking for help with a Vocal Transmogrification Potion, or by using Burbage's former name, Charles "Charlie". Transitioning isn't all-or-nothing with a magical switch that can be flipped and instantly update one's life, and I don't think it would be like that even in a world with HP styled magic.
> 
> Dead Name v Former Name: For people not already aware of trans terminology, a "dead" name can get confused looks, while a "former" name has been more clearly understood, in my experience. Obligatory disclaimer that I am not an educator and this is not meant to be a Trans 101 guide.


	2. The Winds of Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus Snape and the year one of Hogwarts' skeletons crawled out of her many closets, in this instance the Chamber of Secrets. A year of tension and trying to carry on during which Severus figured out a Hair Transmogrification Potion, commiserated with his colleagues over the Idiot Lockhart, came to peace with Lily, was unpleasantly surprised that Potter was a Parselmouth, supported Burbage's revelation that she was Transmogrifying, and did not get paid enough, especially to tackle an ever growing list of Petrifications that needed Mandrake Restorative Draught.
> 
> Added to Characters: Professor [Cuthbert] Binns, Albus Dumbledore  
> Added to Ships: Severus Snape / Charity Burbage  
> Added to Tags: Coming Out, Trans Female Character, Transitioning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I've expanded on some of the motivations for why different groups of Purebloods and others supported Voldemort during the [First] War and how attitudes have changed in the Interwar years, I didn't outright build up enough canon deviance for a CoS AU. Canon deviation includes Severus' alma mater, a somewhat Extra brewing detail for the Mandrake Restorative Draught, and pretty much everything about Professor Binns, whose death has been shifted back in time somewhat.

##### Fall 1992

From the Partial Transmogrification notes of Potions Master Severus Snape, dated 14 Sept 1992:

_Vocal Transmog. Attempt #4 (Summer)_

_Dosage: First taken in July ‘92, Pitch Adjusting Charm recast each subsequent month (rise incrementally). 10 mL am / pm, daily. Taken alone (no food or drink). Thru Sept ‘92._

_Effects: New vocal range holds steady at whispering, normal speaking, and shouting volumes. No cracking, slips into original lower register, or recurring sore throat._

_Side Effects: No overwhelmingly sweet aftertaste or bouts of uncontrollable hiccuping (the reduction to 20g diced cambinip seems to have fixed this)._

_Notes: B admitted to taking Muggle voice lessons for some assistance in adjusting pitch over the summer break, but it does not appear to have affected the potion’s ability to maintain desired vocal attributes._

_Alterations: Filius can help B with gradual progress to desired vocal range and double checking proper spell casting for specific vocal chords (sore throat may not have been belladonna juice but spell related?). No further alterations required; successful Vocal Transmogrification._

Severus’ handwriting is neat, flowing cursive that fills the lined journal in a predetermined set up, but a shimmering block at the bottom of the page obscures printed notes that seem to be an afterthought, a hesitant working out of the writer’s own thoughts:

~~_He still seems to answer to Charlie. She hasn’t requested a new name or pronouns. They seem happier -- Hir? Ze?_ ~~ _Pronouns removed from this school year’s notes at Burbage’s request (answers to he / him in public, but seems uncomfortable doing so in private). I am the last person to know what is going in Muggle or Wizarding fashion, but I’m reasonably confident that pastels and whatever name those sleeves are called are somewhat more feminine (I believe B is trying to be publicly ambiguous)._

_Another Partial Transmog. Potion has been requested. B would like to stabilize spellwork involving hair, so B doesn’t have to maintain such a rigorous shaving or waxing regime. It extends to body hair and facial hair, so I think I may need to add in a batch of lacewing flies (stewed, similar to Polyjuice)._

##### Hallowe’en 1992

Severus had Lily’s candle set out on the mantle - an off white that reminds him of her namesake flower with a gentle vanilla scent because she loved that flavor when they were growing up - when he received the Patronus message from Minerva to come to the second floor corridor. His stomach lurched uncomfortably at the scene of a distraught Argus, a motionless Mrs. Norris, and those three Gryffindors. _Are we ever going to get a peaceful year with Potter here?_ His gut told him that they weren’t as innocent as they were pretending to be, but there was no way to prove it at this point. Poppy and Silvanus could look Mrs. Norris over and try to figure out what had Petrified her, and Severus would have to keep an eye on his House. It had been a rumor in his time as a student that the Heir of Slytherin would one day return to reopen the Chamber of Secrets, but no one had known more about the who or how of it.

It was a more contentious time. The Purebloods had been fighting to keep their traditions going in the aftermath of a crackdown on Grindelwald supporters, and the Ministry of Magic had been going after tangential routes of “Dark” behavior. Blood magic was primitive (and now scrubbed from the history of magic and labeled Dark). Hereditary magic was discriminatory towards Muggle-borns (and we can’t risk offending them by pointing out one branch of magic they can’t access). Publicly talking about the Old Ways was backwards and unChristian (unless you were interested in catering to the watered down Muggle Pagan movement, in which case you were ignored as one of those doped up hippies). The archaic practice of arranged marriages and handfastings to same sex spouses was offensive to the burgeoning gay movement and now illegal (because the underground spaces Purebloods had kept alive for non-heterosexuals of all stripes didn’t matter once the Muggles started a movement). Werewolves were no longer able to live in appropriately warded villages with accommodations (because they were inherently dangerous, classified as Beasts, and unsafe for the expanding Muggle populations).

He didn’t want to think about how little progress has been made in repairing the rift between the Ministry of Magic and the Purebloods, the queer community, and the werewolves in the years since. The Ministry officials couldn’t see the threads connecting their anti-Muggle, anti-Ministry beliefs that led to tacit support of the Dark Lord, and as much as Severus had struggled with his own anti-lycan fears after his Fifth year, it didn’t take a genius to figure out why the packs turned out in astonishing numbers for a supplier of the exorbitantly expensive (and difficult to brew) Wolfsbane Potion. He had boldly chosen to study the development of the potion for one of his classes at University of Wales, Aberystwyth, and Severus had been forced to face his lingering fears of being bitten head on with direct exposure to wixen on the Werewolf Registrar who qualified for the financial assistance program to have Potionology students brew their potion at a discounted brewing fee.

Purebloods weren’t very good at publicly admitting their faults, but privately, in the quiet Potions labs where they were brewing for friends, families, sometimes themselves, and occasionally victims claiming weregild from the war, Severus had heard the whispers of change. A Muggle-born saved my life when I was stranded in an anti-Apparition zone and moonrise was coming. My great-grandmother hid that she was a Half-blood because she wanted her husband’s family to accept her. Swathes of students experimenting with casting Concealing Charms on bandages to cover up grey Dark Marks. Hesitant apologies. Muggle-born, not Mudblood. Severus knew they couldn’t undo the damage from the war because there were some matters that you can’t wave your wand and magic will make it disappear. But he had seen little steps of progress. The Muggle Studies class had added in a Wix-Muggle section to specifically talk about accomplishments the Wizarding and Muggle worlds had collaborated on (Muggle raised wixen were often dumbfounded that the Wizarding world knew of electricity and the Space Race). A student group led by Slytherins and Ravenclaws to hold meetings to explain Pureblood history and culture to Muggle-borns had a rocky start, but it eventually caught on. As an effort born out of House meetings to welcome the Muggle raised Slytherin First years into the fold, Severus had to admit he was most proud of this step forward.

He could see his students struggling with their clashing experiences in the wake of the announcement that the Chamber of Secrets had been opened. Their grandparents probably still spoke of Mudbloods at the dinner table, and their parents were wary of rolling up their sleeves but still often distrusted Muggles, even if they were slowly accepting Muggle raised wixen. Yet snakes were insular and highly protective of their own, so the warning against enemies of the Heir of Slytherin was a threat to their Housemates, friends, and classmates. It was late into the night when Severus finally lit the candle for Lily, and it was a harried, ‘shit, I forgot to do that’ moment more so than the years past. He hasn’t been able to tell Albus that the death anniversary for his former friend and once love hasn’t carried the same weight as it once did. It wasn’t immediately following the Dark Lord’s defeat when everything still felt raw like he could’ve (should’ve) been able to change the Potters’ outcomes. Severus was finally teaching their son, and the incoming years of students were young enough to not have memories of the war. No matter how many times you poke and prod at a wound, it eventually scabs over and heals.

Perhaps this will be the year he quietly mentions that Albus no longer needs to gift him the 24 hour candle for Yule. He is no longer the lonely, struggling to be accepted wizard fresh out of Hogwarts, who alienated his childhood friend and can’t let go of his mistakes. (Advisor mandated sessions with a university Mind Healer certainly weren’t as useless as he’d thought.) Severus can’t spare thoughts to the lack of emotional response at not carrying on his Hallowe’en ritual, though. Pomona has a fresh crop of mandragoras planted, and Poppy thinks that a Mandrake Restorative Draught can counteract Mrs. Norris’ Petrification come spring when they can be harvested, and he needs to prepare for growing or buying the other ingredients. Charlie had stopped by for a Calming Draught because ~~he~~ ~~she~~ Burbage was anxious about war dreams coming back. And to top off the hectic night, Scabbers had worked his way past the office wards and those bald patches near his wrists have returned. Severus was quite sure none of the staff are hiding a shade of the Dark Lord like last year because he’s certain even a non-corporeal remnant of a wizard would have higher standards than to use that idiot Lockhart, but he doesn’t have the time to deal with a jumpy rat that seems afraid of something. He may be a proficient Legilimens, but he can’t read an animal’s thoughts, so he put out the Porta-Maze he’d begrudgingly held onto from last Yule to keep Scabbers occupied and away from his notes for what Pomona needs to check her greenhouses for by next week’s Petrification meeting.

##### Yule 1992

Severus hadn’t been expecting Burbage to stop by his private quarters after dinner with the compensation for the Partial Transmogrification Potions. He was quite sure Charlie was trying to apologize and explain something about thanking him in person through the door between his office and quarters, but he was more preoccupied with hunting down a bathrobe (these were not pajamas suitable for anyone seeing him) and double checking the bandage with a Concealing Charm was in place. While he had grown used to his Dark Mark being uncovered in private and when adequately dressed for public interactions (in long sleeves), Severus felt overly aware of this shirt not having full-length sleeves, and it would only take one wrong movement for his Muggle-born colleague to see the grey but still recognizable brand on his left forearm. A private, introverted part of him loathed opening the door and revealing a still somewhat disheveled appearance (being caught wearing the Yuletide themed Swedish Short-Snout and snowflake decorated bottoms with a garish red and green top from Aberystwyth was bad enough), but he was hoping that Charlie wouldn’t be staying long.

“Again, I’m sorry”, Charlie was alternating between staring at the festive yet mismatched clothing in mild surprise and glancing off to the side in embarrassment, and B was nervously twisting the pouch with galleons and sickles in B’s hands. Severus had the passing thought that he should say something reassuringly dismissive because he clearly wasn’t interrupted in the midst of something important, but he wasn’t entirely paying attention to that part of his brain. Charlie had declared the Hair Transmogrification a success just a week prior, and yet he wasn’t expecting the slight length to her brown-blonde hair, the ends now comfortably tucked around her ears and skimming her shirt collar. He couldn’t even scold himself properly for using feminine pronouns because the emerald shirt’s sleeves were a tad too billowy, the scarf decorated with holly hanging and tied just so, the stubble free chin, something about the new hair, and he honestly couldn’t even pinpoint what else Charlie’s outfit was specifically using to give off a feminine aura.

“I see you’ve gotten your autographed portrait from Lockhart”, Charlie’s voice lilted upwards in the rush to fill the silence, and she turned towards the mantle quickly, dropping the pouch on the inn table next to his armchair. Severus squinted at her hands and retreating back as she took in the godsawful faux golden frame that the supposed Defense Professor had gifted everyone (Minerva herself had found out that they couldn’t be binned and would return to the mantle via a Self-Organizing Charm, and Filius had confirmed that the charm would last until Boxing Day). He frowned at the shorter wix’s profile against the fire in thought. Severus would know those blue eyes, the long thin fingers, that face because it would take body Transfiguration and another variety of Transmogrification Potion to alter the original appearance of the wizard he had known for years, and yet, there were bells going off that something was different tonight.

“I’ve heard Bathsheda is enjoying your gift - elderflower wine and a complementary vial of Sobering Solution”, Charlie picked up Bathsheda’s bottle of scotch and examined the label. Severus didn’t know his alcohol as well as some of the other staff, but they were all in agreement that a neutrally decided bottle exchange would be necessary to making it through the rest of the year with Lockhart, unless he could figure out a way to get himself fired between now and then. Silvanus and Filius had a wager going that the idiot would injure himself showing off in class, and Severus couldn’t muster up any apologetic feelings for having come up with a few tentative plans for coincidental accidents (nothing life threatening, but incapacitating enough that someone would have to substitute for the disgrace of a Defense professor and the poor students would actually learn something). In the midst of wondering if Charlie was open to such underhanded plotting, Severus had joined her by the fireplace and gotten close enough to see her hands wrapped around the bottle that he finally saw it. A glossy pale pink, just barely noticeable from one’s natural nail color. Caught up in saying something about how the scotch was from a good year, Charlie had half-turned to face him, and something about the candlelight flickering down across her face made the visual difference click.

“You’re wearing makeup.”

Charlie blinked and her face froze momentarily - Was she surprised that he would notice? - before she looked down at the bottle of scotch, casting her face in shadow. This wasn’t one of his areas of expertise, so Severus didn’t think he had any worthwhile commentary or helpful suggestions about her makeup. She licked her lips nervously, opened her mouth, and promptly closed it in favor of chewing on her bottom lip. He wasn’t blind, but he also couldn’t tell what all she had used because she had presumably tried to go for a natural look. Severus slowly placed his right hand on her shoulder, which was the best he felt he could do for unprompted reassurance, and spoke quietly, “It took me a bit to figure out what was different about your face, but that’s not a critique, or even a worthy review.”

“It’s alright”, Charlie turned back to the fireplace to return the scotch to its place next to the collection of holidays cards, and Severus found himself awkwardly crossing his arms over his chest as she stepped out of reach to look over her gift of tea tree cream (supposedly it would discourage Scabbers’ self-barbering), “I’ve been practicing, but I haven’t tried to wear this much outside of my quarters. It feels like I have a giant neon sign over my face.”

“I’ve been surrounded by teenagers going overboard in discovering makeup, trying to hide acne, and failing to cover up love bites for over a decade”, Severus scoffed and turned the exuberantly smiling portrait of The Idiot to face the wall, “If you had a neon sign, I would’ve easily recognized it.”

Charlie’s snort quickly gave way to poorly stifled giggles, and Severus felt his shoulders relax as the final tension left the room. He’d acted like a prat by silently staring once B had walked in, and really, he should prepare himself for these new changes and experiments. Charlie was simply trying to figure out what was comfortable in not quite presenting as a wizard these days, and it wasn’t his business when it came to what was or was not done. B’s giggles had finally died down, and Charlie looked a bit sheepish, “I mean, you’re not wrong, but I can empathize with them now. I still haven’t been able to rule out if it’s differences in candlelight versus Muggle electrical lightning that’s making some of the shades look darker here compared to my flat. Be honest. It doesn’t look gaudy, does it?”

Severus shrugged and felt his stomach do a peculiar flip-flop that he couldn’t remember experiencing in years. Lying to the Dark Lord had a way of recalibrating one’s nerves, and while this was uncomfortable, it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. It actually reminded him of a spring day when Lily and he were younger, and the sunlight had lit her auburn hair into a fiery blaze while she was laughing at something. _Oh no_. He was vaguely aware of his cheeks heating up and Charlie starting to look worried at his prolonged silence, and something short-circuited in his brain, which led to Severus blurting out, “It may not look gaudy, but I honestly think you look better without makeup.”

##### Jan 1993

“Thank you for agreeing to meet me. I know the return to term can be busy”, Charlie sat in one of the chairs before Albus’ desk, and Severus calmly sat in the other. He had gotten a short and to the point note New Year’s Day asking if he would be available to speak with the Headmaster in his office, and given that he’d been asked to bring his Transmogrification Potion notes, Severus could only assume that Charlie was finally requesting the brewing fees to be added to the Hogwarts Potions fund. B had foregone experimental makeup and florals for a tawny dress shirt with billowy sleeves and slacks that looked more like a flowing black skirt than any trousers Severus had seen. The replica of the Fourth Doctor’s scarf that Poppy had knitted as a Christmas gift rounded out the ambiguous, somewhat fae aura that Charlie was giving off, but B had rather quickly lost confidence upon taking a seat, “I - I wanted to, er…”

In a seemingly frivolous mood, Albus was enjoying his Saturday of meetings with various professors in a decidedly Albus set of maroon robes with lime green stitching outlining various leaves with a goblet of something spiced and steaming. If it weren’t for the slim notebook on his desk with the day’s schedule, Severus could believe they had just interrupted the Headmaster on a day off, and despite a meeting with Professor Binns creeping closer, he was in no hurry to force the conversation along, even as Charlie took to twisting the parchment with notes in B’s hands out of nerves. Severus glanced at the portraits along the walls. There was always that one former Headmaster from the 1100s who was horribly impatient and prone to asking blunt questions, but based on the snoozing inhabitants or empty portraits, he suspected Albus had some foresight to provide Charlie the privacy B wanted to discuss the matter at hand. Well, discuss was a bit generous, but B’s internal pressure had finally built to the point where Charlie blurted something out, “I’m Transmogrifying.”

The nervous tension that had been radiating off Charlie had ebbed away, but B and Severus were caught off guard by a shivering, quasi-chilled sensation through parts of their bodies (in his case, his right arm and part of his right side). Professor Binns, the only ghost on staff, had drifted up through the floor rather than ascend the staircase outside of the Headmaster’s Office, and his silvery, old features looked just as confused to see extra living people in the room. He readjusted his glasses and turned towards Albus, “Am I early? Floating is faster than walking, I’m afraid.”

“Merely a few moments, Professor Binns”, Albus inclined his head graciously, and Binns readjusted his spectral dress robes out of nervous habit. He had passed in his sleep in his office after removing his tie and unbuttoning his vest to relax while grading papers, but he was rather self-conscious of his death attire even if his time’s publicly uncouth suit was still more put together for the present day. Binns turned to squint in the direction of Charlie’s shoes, “Where are your bells, Ms. Burbage?”

“My what?”, Charlie’s voice lilted up in an unflattering squeak, and B coughed to clear B’s throat, declining Albus’ offered tin of lemon drops while Binns spoke, “Your bells, a sign of your patronage? Freyr is attended by wizards turned witches, as seen in the _Gesta Danorum_ where the narrator talks of men with womanly mannerisms, long skirts, and wearing or playing bells. They’re believed to play a role in the fertility cults associated with Freyr, perhaps as priestesses for certain rites. Saxo Grammaticus was clearly a product of his time, but seeking the blessing of Freyr was instrumental in early Transmogrification efforts.”

Binns’ parchment dry voice had the peculiar effect of sounding like rustling pages if he talked for too long, and Severus shifted his shoulders in a small shrug at the desperate glance for assistance from his colleague. Professor Binns could be a rather odd member of the staff. He adamantly refused inquiries into his first name because only his (departed) family had the appropriate decorum to not call him by his title, he didn’t need to eat or drink and therefore avoided the Great Hall more often than not, and he had the surprisingly far reaching knowledge base to drop peculiarities like historical deity patronage into a conversation. Albus jotted something down in his notebook while politely keeping Binns from continuing in a miniature lesson, “I’m not sure that Muggle-borns talk of being Freyr folks these days, but I’m sure it’s the thought that counts, Professor Binns.”

His spectral feet and ankles sunk into the floor several centimeters in embarrassment, and Charlie seemed to draw strength from no longer being the only one struggling with nerves in the room, glancing down to the piece of parchment with notes and talking quickly, “I don’t expect the paperwork for my name change with the Ministry to be completed, fully processed, and go into effect until after the term ends, so I’ve still been going by Charlie. I’ve started a regime of partial Transmogrification Potions with Severus, but this halfway stage doesn’t feel like it’s enough anymore, and I would like to officially be on staff as a witch. If Hogwarts can’t meet my accommodations for next term, I’m prepared to update my CV.”

Severus’ heart and stomach were doing uncomfortable swooping movements, and a surprisingly large part of him did not want Charlie’s insinuation that she’d leave Hogwarts to come to pass. He knew he could maintain correspondence and not lose contact with someone outside of his direct colleagues, but he didn’t want to lose the easy friendship that had been built over companionable silences grading essays, talking lesson plans, brewing her potions, and light-hearted bickering over Scabbers, who was really looking dreadful this year. Professor Binns was floating near the ceiling in a ghostly attempt at privacy, and Albus was staring off to his side and absentmindedly twirling the end of his beard in thought. He wasn’t outraged, confused, or showing any emotion other than contemplation, and Severus could only hope it was a positive sign of consideration. Charlie had tore her parchment in half and switched to twining her fingers in the colorful scarf in the relative silence of the crackling of the logs in Albus’ fireplace and the soft puttering of some of his instruments. Finally, Albus nodded to himself and turned his full gaze on her, “Would it be possible, in a manner of speaking, for Mr. Burbage to go on sabbatical this summer and be replaced by, perhaps a distant cousin, Ms. Burbage?”

“Oh - I”, Charlie looked rather dazed, but she nodded quickly, “Yes, I can manage a little longer. I wasn’t sure if - if I could stay…”

“Bollocks”, Professor Binns’ whisper sounded harsh and dust filled, though Severus wasn’t entirely sure how he could know the sound of dust, and all the living occupants glanced up to the silvery form in one of the top shadowy corners of the room. He was surprisingly animated in his clarification at a louder volume, “That vampire Ivan the Lesser was brought in to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts for a year, and you think an update to your quarters will be impossible? Hogwarts may not reveal her secrets with neon signs, but she can certainly accommodate another witch on staff.”

##### St. Valentine’s Day 1993

“Now I know why Albus has never made a big deal out of this saint’s day”, Charlie had given up on getting the confetti out of her hair sometime around lunch when she stopped trying to Repel the little folded envelopes and origami animals flying after her. Lockhart had provided little stalls in the corridors with pieces of parchment and EZ Vanish Glitter or Confetti at some point, and it was far less embarrassing for the majority of the younger students to pelt recipients with glitter bombs made out of stars, cranes, owls, and dragons than to send a proper valentine, especially via Idiot’s costumed dwarf brigade. Charlie herself had reverted to her wardrobe of simple suit dress robes, outlandish ties, and a few sweater vests in an attempt to more clearly distinguish a before and after for the sabbatical story, and for this occasion, she had a deep navy blue sweater vest and obnoxious silver and blue Tardis tie. Severus’ stomach was throwing him back to the less than pleasant times of his youth when he almost felt nauseous from the frantic butterflies in the stomach sensation his crush on Lily had elicited, and he would rather drink the Film Development Decoction he had brewed than admit Charlie’s attempt at a masculine outfit did far more to highlight her feminine touches than obscure.

“Love Potions aren’t covered until NEWT levels in part because of their history of ethical mismanagement, and _he_ suggested I might hand out brewing instructions to anyone who might ask”, Severus scoffed at the idea of letting love, lust, and glamour potions lose into the general student body. Anyone who had made it to his NEWT Potions class would stop and reconsider the idea after the complicated but thorough breakdown of archeo-brewing and the historical development of modern love potions. If a student couldn’t explain that pearl dust was mandatory in commercially sold brews because it provided a finite time limit for a dosage or differentiate between consent affirming variations of lust formulas, he wasn’t letting them into the ingredients storage let alone near a cauldron. There were swaths of archeo-brews that were illegal to be caught brewing because adults couldn’t handle them ethically, but teenagers and mere children? Imbecile.

“Rant a little louder, and _he_ just might hear you”, Charlie’s gentle teasing prodded Severus back to the present, but he wasn’t gracing a response because Filius had covered the idiocy of the wizard and his Valentine’s Day antics in the staff break room just after dinner. Entrancing Enchantments and glamours were no less contentious in the field of Charms (the matter of identity altering spells or potions creating dubious consent was still being fought over between lawyers and glamour magic specialists), and the somewhat murky dynamics between the humanoid species that resulted in short statured wixen didn’t exactly warm the goblin descended Filius to dwarves being hired to deliver messages. He had gone a little overboard in providing a list of every possible or even tangentially related spell Charlie would need to doctor her photographic evidence of Charles interacting with his cousin, and the Film Development Decoction would help with the finalization steps. Charlie had been flustered by The Bloody Baron’s appearance shortly after her talk with Albus to inquire into what he should warn Peeves against teasing her about, and Severus was quite sure she hadn’t really planned on revealing her desired name, Charity, but the Baron’s grave sincerity had that effect on non-Slytherins.

“Pity your students didn’t arrange for a T-rex to eat him”, Severus sighed wistfully, “I’m not saying Silvanus and Filius and possibly others would help them, but it’s been a while since there was a good Muggle Studies prank. And it would be awfully satisfying after a day like today.”

“Merlin help me”, Charlie’s face had gone pale in horror but quickly regained color while building up to her threat, “A Muggle-born went off about seeing the trailer for that bloody movie over the winter holiday. Computers and electrical advances like that aren’t covered until Fourth Year, and I had to try to explain to my Third Years that the Muggles hadn’t truly extracted dinosaur blood from mosquitos caught in amber, and _Jurassic Park_ is not a real theme park. It’s not enough that they live in a world with **_dragons_** , and I will personally jinx any staff that tries to help the students create a T-rex because CGI is incredibly close to certain glamours.”

##### Early June 1993

“I’m still not sure why Jones is taking Muggle Studies as a Muggle-born.”

“You did the same thing when you were her age.”

“I paid attention and put effort into my homework, Sev. She put more effort into doodling my name in Gallifreyan on the back of her scroll than the essay itself.”

“You can always give her a Poor mark for trying to skate by.”

“I can’t believe I’m tempted to, but her tone is annoyingly superior about Muggle contributions to the Space Race while leaving out Wizarding contributions, which we spent a whole unit on.”

“Ear protection. You may want to leave the lab.”

“You’re just adding in the mandragora root --”, a blood curdling scream went unheard as a fully grown root with its chubby baby-like face screwed up in a shriek was placed into the boiling cauldron. It was a peculiar and the most dangerous step of brewing the Mandrake Restorative Draught because it wouldn’t be safe to remove the Sound Buffering Charms or the earmuffs with their protective enchantments until the mandragora had been boiled to death. In theory, this sounded like a quick procedure with very little fuss, but in reality, it took three minutes of desperate arm and leg flailing that could look an awful lot like swimming in the first minute or so, non-stop eardrum shattering decibel levels, watching pain filled expressions as outer layers of skin and smaller roots sloughed off, and the appealing scent of apples cooking as the main taproot grew still and sunk into the potion. The lingering scream echoes had finally faded away after another two minutes of boiling, “What the fuck.”

“This first cauldron is for Colin Creevey.”

“Justin Finch-Fletchley, Penelope Clearwater, Hermione Granger…”

“Don’t forget Mrs. Norris and Nearly Headless Nick. I suspect I’ll need to make an extra batch apiece to allow for experimentation with giving them their doses.”

“I thought you said you could dice the root.”

“Those versions of the Restorative Draught don’t work on long-term Petrification, but I should be able to dry and dice or dry and grind into a fine powder enough mandragoras to replenish my stock for those.”

“I don’t want to know how you’re going to dry them, and I don’t know how to feel about craving apple pie right now.”

“May I ask about a part of your Transmogrification?”

“My Healers are very impressed with your partial potions, and I do think you should look into making sure someone doesn’t claim --”

“I’m rather limited in what I can do about recipe copyright until term ends. I was more wondering how you picked out your name.”

“...”

“ _Char_ -lie, _Char_ -ity, they’re close. Why not go for something with a different letter?”

“Oh, in a way, I didn’t. My mum once told me that if I’d been born a girl my name would’ve been Charity.”

“That makes sense, I guess.”

“...”

“Poppy shared those pamphlets about moggies with the staff, and I just don’t want to slip up next term and call you ‘Charlie’. I was hoping it’d be easier if your new name didn’t sound quite so similar.”

“I hadn’t ever thought about that, but it’s alright. Each staff member gets two strikes and then I’ll start minor hexing and jinxing, so I imagine you’ll catch on quick.”

“Is it as - unpleasant - as the pamphlet says to be called ‘Charlie’?”

“Erm, each moggie’s different. Even when I was growing up, I was only called ‘Charles’ in official situations, so I’ve never felt a strong connection to my full birth name. I don’t feel dread, disappointment, panic, or whatever else was in the list when I’m called ‘Charlie’. It’s more a feeling that I’m bogged down and stuck halfway between the closet and being too out, and ‘Charity’ is like a breath of fresh air, a weight being lifted.”

##### Late June 1993

Severus absolutely did not regret his formerly foolish share of the betting pool on whether Lockhart would return for another term, and while a small part of him thought it was unfortunate that the basilisk didn’t kill or even get a chance to maim the quack, he was quite pleased with technically getting the reason for leaving correct - the Idiot had a spell backfire on himself and needed to go to St. Mungo’s. The staff were being polite and waiting until they could get together after term ended to celebrate off the castle grounds, but word in the break room was that even Professor Binns was going to walk through a keg of wine with the other ghosts. None of the staff had been prepared for Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter - two Second Years - to go off in search of Ginevra, and Silvanus was still crying over the fate of the basilisk. Granted, that disastrous Dueling Club the Idiot had tried to hold in the fall had revealed that Potter was a Parselmouth, but they had no way to realize he might be hearing something in the walls when no else could confirm spoken words.

“Sherbet lemon.”

Although, Charity had rightly pointed out that a gigantic serpent explained Scabbers’ self-barbering and jumpy fear responses ever since the Chamber of Secrets had been opened. While a pet of a Pureblood Wizarding family and quite likely exposed to magic since birth, the rat would still have instincts protesting one of it’s most well-known predators being around for so much of the year, even if it was a magical species that was more interested in other prey. Severus tried not to think of Parseltongue and the last wizard he had heard it from because it was embarrassing to admit he had thought he’d felt a stirring in his Dark Mark at the familiar sibilant sounds. He would much rather take the opportunity while riding the spiraling staircase to the Headmaster’s Office to do a last minute review of the notes about horcruxes Albus had requested he look into.

“Thank you for coming on such short notice, Severus”, Albus was stroking the head of Fawkes, who was perched on its customary stand and healthy as a reborn phoenix. It had been secured away on his prior visit because the very newly reborn chicks were apt to try to play in exposed flames until they were a few weeks old, which was harmless but caused unnecessary rebirths and delayed the ageing process. Severus nodded and felt his stomach give a rather unexpected twinge at the sight of a black leather-bound book with ink stained pages and a large hole burned into the middle of it. He took the closest seat and didn’t like that the Headmaster had skipped his jovial greetings, small talk, and customary offering of sweets. Albus nodded to his collected notes and the grave expression dimming those familiar blue eyes into grim ice he hadn’t seen since the war made Severus fairly certain this was not a hypothetical discussion of a highly theoretical Dark Art, “The Egyptology craze of the mid-19th century led to a Catholic wizard corrupting an Ancient Egyptian practice of holding the parts of a soul in a container for the afterlife into creating a horcrux. Understanding of soul magic was still very much skewed by religious beliefs, and in this case, limited by Christianity’s view of single-soul theory.”

“I was under the impression that Egyptomania merely resulted in a shadow box phase.”

“A person's shadow or silhouette, which was called _šwt_ , is always present, so Ancient Egyptians believed it contained something of the person it represents. Sometimes pharaohs had a shadow box in which part of their šwt was stored, but it’s unclear to what extent a shadow did anything after death. It’s possible that the šwt was involved in some sort of warding or protective magic, but Egyptologists haven’t really come to a consensus on that.”

“Were you able to find anything about the creation of a horcrux?”

“It’s still a rather theoretical field because of the different approaches in single-soul theory and multiple-soul theory. A single soul requires an act to damage it and force a split into a larger and smaller shard, so that the practitioner can anchor the smaller soul shard to an object. Several sorcerers and alchemists have attempted to make a horcrux, but their guilt over their chosen acts to split the soul, well, affected their ability to continue living.”

“Were these wizards successful?”

“The larger soul shards were unable to pass beyond the Veil and rest in their applicable afterlife options, and they were anchored to the land of the living as shades. None of them were able or willing to recreate a body to inhabit, so they’re considered partial successes.”

“Can the smaller soul shards return as shades?”, Albus made a point of looking at the battered remnants of the book on his desk, and Severus’ stomach twinged again. He shrugged unhelpfully, “In theory, no. They’re supposed to be safely anchored to the object acting as a horcrux so that the rest of the soul cannot pass on, but public information is quite limited. Soul magic was rebranded as a Dark Art after the fall of the Dark Lord, and the vast majority of the research is locked away to only be accessed by the British Unspeakables.”

“I’m afraid that Tom Riddle left a diary behind, which explains last year’s shade”, Severus’ heart decided to get in on the game of twinging uncomfortably, and he had to forcefully keep himself from scratching at the phantom itch racing along his left forearm across the Dark Mark, “The shard anchored to it was feeding on someone who found it and struck up a friendship with the student who could write back. Thankfully, the diary has clearly been destroyed by basilisk venom, but I have no way of knowing if the larger shade has passed beyond the Veil now.”

“That may be something only an Unspeakable could answer.”

“You mentioned something about multiple-soul theory, correct?”

“In a paradigm that inherently has more than one soul component, no heinous soul-rending acts must take place to split the soul, so there’s very little to no damage. Unfortunately, the Christian sorcerers looked down upon the different multiple-soul theories as belonging to ‘backwards’, ‘savage’, or ‘soulless’ cultures because they often weren’t Christian.”

“How many parts can be found in Egyptology?”

“Eight, in addition to the shadow. The _khet_ is the physical body. Ancient Egyptians were big on preservation because the khet had to be properly ‘awoken’ in order for the _sah_ to interact with the Duat, their afterlife plane --”

“Is the original body required in the post-horcrux process of returning to life?”

“No, it can be replaced or recreated, and the whole point is to avoid creating a sah. Your name, the _rn_ , provides power to the soul and allows the memory of the deceased to live on for as long their name is written, spoken, and remembered. This is a comparatively easy way to have a ‘container’ for a soul component, so another component must be anchored to an object to create a horcrux.”

“What must be anchored to a horcrux?”

“The vital essence that makes the physical body alive is the _ka_ , and it is the ka leaving the body that results in death. The personality unique to an individual, which remained with the physical body after death, is the _ba_. If the original body can’t be reanimated, the ba needs to be transferred to a container until it can be reunited with the ka in a new body.”

“Could a shade reunite their ka and ba on their own?”

“Neither Egyptologists nor Unspeakables know. A collection of priests working together formed the foundation of all known Ancient Egyptian rites, and no one has been able to convince an accomplice to do the post-death assistant work.”

“You may continue.”

“Erm, some of this is a little more theoretical than you’re looking for. The heart, both the physical organ and the spiritual seat of the soul, is the _ib_ , which undergoes the Weighing of the Heart in the Duat, and should you pass the test, your ka and ba reunite into the _akh_. This is the soul component that descendants can interact with, can work magic to affect the living, and possibly haunt a living person. The abilities of an akh varied over the centuries of Ancient Egyptian --”

“Can an akh be a shade?”

“I rather doubt it. A shade wouldn’t want to enter the Duat because this defeats the purpose of a horcrux, and an akh has more desirable options of where to reside in the Duat than to come back to the land of the living and get stuck as a half-ghost.”

“Is that all, Severus?”

“The ib should ideally be anchored to an object to help reunite the ka and ba in a newly created body. The life-force that exists within the Duat after judgement, regardless of the results, is the _sḫm_. Not much is known about this component of the soul, and it may be because it is unable to interact with land of the living or any living people. When it comes to horcruxes, the sḫm may have no choice but to pass beyond the Veil and therefore can’t be anchored.”

“But we can’t be sure of that, can we?”

“Not unless someone studies Ancient Egyptian multiple-soul theory enough to try to create horcruxes with this model, Headmaster.”

“I rather doubt a shade has access to these resources in whatever limbo Tom resides in”, Albus had finally lost his detached air of academic questioning, but he still didn’t look as relieved as Severus felt at the hopeful idea that the Dark Lord may stay dead. He carefully picked up the ruined diary and thumbed through several pages, and Severus had never been more grateful for standard ink to not be a bloody shade of red. After a moment of careful consideration of an inkblot, Albus shut the book and smiled, eyes twinkling like usual, “I do believe an Order member went into the Department of Mysteries after the war, and while the last I’d heard, they were studying the Sands of Time, they may be interested in looking over a former horcrux. Perhaps they can more clearly verify the severance of Tom’s shade to his anchor. After all, what dies should stay dead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Source](http://www.isamurats.co.uk/individual-rat-behaviours.html) for tea tree cream (Year 2, Yule 1992). In that same section, Severus’ alma mater is named as [University of Wales, Aberystwyth](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aberystwyth_University) \- “The shield features two red dragons to symbolise Wales, and an open book to symbolise learning. The crest, an eagle or phoenix above a flaming tower, may signify the College's rebirth after the 1885 fire. The motto is _Nid Byd, Byd Heb Wybodaeth_ (A world without knowledge is no world at all).” [School colors are red and green.] [Source](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ancient_Egyptian_concept_of_the_soul) for Ancient Egyptian soul theory (Year 2, Late June 1993).


	3. Red Sky In Morn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus Snape and the year his past came back to haunt him in the form of Professor R.J. Lupin. A rather stressful year during which Severus had to brew Wolfsbane Potion for the werewolf that almost bit him in his youth, apologize for anti-lycan pettiness, discovered he was not very good at dating, was caught off guard by an unexpected side effect of Charity’s Transmogrification, unpleasantly figured out a man had been living with him as a rat, and did not get paid enough, especially to prevent Potter and his fellow Gryffindors from getting bitten by the werewolf in residence or trying to go after escaped convict Sirius Black on their own.
> 
> Category: Updated to F/M  
> Added to Characters: Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew  
> Added to Tags: Falling In Love, Asexuality Spectrum, Sexuality Crisis, Identity Reveal, Animagus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title plays on [weather folklore](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Red_sky_at_morning). More Potions expansion (cryopotions referenced) and headcanons about Transmogrification and Animagus related magic.
> 
> Part of A/N (due to space constraints in endnotes box):  
> Morning After: While I am aware that “bay’td” looks weird it’s a play on ‘baited’ (as in baited breath) and holding bay under the tongue during the process of becoming an Animagus (sh, I remembered fan theory, but I already have my word play going, just roll with it). War code names aka allusions to Greek myth (Styx, Charon, Lethe).

##### Fall 1993

Not all that is vanquished remains asleep  
And old fears can return from the ashes  
But fear not, and do not weep  
For Hogwarts was built to weather such clashes

Brave Gryffindor built moats and bridges  
Wise Ravenclaw the turrets and towers  
Adaptive Hufflepuff brought armor and wards  
Cunning Slytherin the decoys and false mazes

Be warned, when wolves circle at the door  
Sniffing for weaknesses, stirring up strife  
Hogwarts was founded not by three but by four  
Divided we weaken, united we survive

Lions retreat even though they are loyal  
Clever ravens cannot solve every riddle in time  
Kind badgers draw blood and ask questions later  
And solitary serpents can hold the line

I sort for convenience, dear students and staff,  
Not to stifle our youth in tight little boxes  
Remember Godric and Salazar, Helga and Rowena  
And the inter-House friendship that started this all

Severus couldn’t bring himself to feel bad for not paying attention to the Sorting of the incoming First Years, not after the Sorting Hat gave such a warning filled song like that. His conscience was prickling uncomfortably because he didn’t particularly want a reminder of inter-House friendship tonight. The infamous Gryffindor from a family of Slytherins, Sirius Black, had returned to the front page of The Daily Prophet after a 12 year hiatus, and he was the reason for the small army of dementors sent to the boundary of the castle grounds. Polite clapping for each sortee interrupted his awareness of the professors on either side of him, Charity in a new set of unequivocally feminine cut dress robes and this year’s Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor in shabby but neat dress robes. Severus knew it was an important stepping stone in the path to full lycan rights for a werewolf to be hired at Hogwarts, and he had had plenty of practice with brewing Wolfsbane Potion that Albus knew he couldn’t refuse the request for brewing accommodations. He didn’t want to be surly and passive-aggressive like an insufferable teen being forced to do Potions homework, but Severus had not been prepared for Remus Lupin to be the werewolf in question. Long buried memories of almost being bitten notwithstanding, it was surreal to hear the quiet back and forth of former friends between his table mates. Charity had been three years below Severus and Lupin, and the Gryffindor prefect had tutored the Hufflepuff in Charms for several terms.

A final round of loud clapping signaled the end of the Sorting ceremony, and Albus stood, looking rather ghost-like in his shimmering gray robes, “Welcome, First Years! Welcome all to another year at Hogwarts. First, I would like to extend a warm greeting to our new members on staff. Silvanus Kettleburn has retired to make the most of his time with his remaining limbs, so our Gamekeeper Rubeus Hagrid has taken over for Care of Magical Creatures -”, Severus kept his grimace to himself, but he knew other staff weren’t quite as jovial about the news that an incident at the Hebridean Black Dragon Reserve on the Island of Skye was the unexpected reason for the change, “- Our dear Charles Burbage has gone on sabbatical to visit his family and remain up to date with several electrical-computational, erm, Muggle technology conferences”, a brief pause to motion to Charity, who stood with a radiantly self-confident smile, “His cousin Charity Burbage will be filling our Muggle Studies post this year, and be warned that he has filled her in on the all cultural pranks -”, muffled protests may or may not have emanated from the Gryffindor table, namely the Weasley twins, but the Headmaster continued on, “And this year’s Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor is R. J. Lupin.”

Lupin had an infuriatingly kind smile, and Severus could practically taste the interest of the students below at this year’s option in the revolving door of Defense post. Albus waited for the polite clapping to die down and Lupin to take his seat before continuing in a much less light-hearted tone, and Severus wondered not for the first time if the Headmaster ever gave the Sorting hat recommendations on what to sing about while it was stored in his office, “At the request of the Ministry of Magic, Hogwarts will, until further notice, host a contingent of the dementors - the guards from Azkaban - until their escaped ward, Sirius Black, is captured. The dementors will be stationed at every entrance to the castle grounds, and I have been assured that they will not interfere with our day-to-day activities. However, I should caution you all to not give them reason to enter the grounds or harm you. They are effective guardians, but they are not picky when in pursuit of prey.” Severus couldn’t blame the student body for going silent because this was a far cry from a vague warning to avoid the third floor or stay out of the Forbidden Forest for their general safety. Albus must have realized the murmuring starting up was the beginning of fear and concern for he brightened his ending, “On a brighter note, Professor Flitwick would like to remind our new students that auditions for the Frog Choir and Snoozing Dragon Symphony Orchestra will be this upcoming weekend in the Great Hall. Don’t worry if you haven’t had music or voice lessons until now. There will be plenty of time to practice before the Hallowe’en Feast, and speaking of feasts, enjoy.”

##### Hallowe’en 1993

“Dunno why it’s called Screwed by a Pumpkin”, Severus mixed the shot of vodka into a tall glass of pumpkin juice and settled down in his armchair, well more of a loveseat because it was theoretically built to seat two but that was a minor detail, before the mantle. It had felt like a waste to not light the candle Albus had gifted him last Christmas, and he needed to do something familiar this Hallowe’en when the person who had betrayed Lily and James was loose. “But we’ve got a free period before the feast.”

A muffled squeak came from somewhere in the direction of his private quarters. Severus didn’t know what was bothering Scabbers this term because he’d managed to survive a basilisk last year, but the rat had taken to hiding in his office or room more often than not. Unlike other years when he would make a point of visiting for some human interaction, Scabbers was literally hiding in boxes and crevices, merely faint scratching sounds and squeaks instead of a visual presence. It was peculiar, but Severus felt a little less like he was going off his rocker when there was something living to talk to instead of Lily’s candle.

“I think she’d be relieved I’m not holding onto her memory like that”, Severus really ought to remember to send a Christmas card to his advisor from Aberystwyth because that wizard had been a godsend to the young wizards and witches coming out from the snares of the Dark Lord’s implicit or vocal support, stuck with the varying types of Dark Marks in a world that didn’t want to understand the nuances of his allies. Only the twisting serpent, only the skull, different shades of grey, Snatchers and accomplices, informants, those who failed initiation. He took a sip of the burning yet sweet drink, “Lil’ was always trying to be encouraging about dates when we were in school, but it’s not that easy anymore. When I have free time, I don’t want to go out to a bar to try to convince a stranger that I’m interesting. Potionology is notoriously popular with people who like being alone with their thoughts - not to mention the long distance part. Larger quarters for couples with open Floo access are reserved for long-term partners and spouses.”

Scabbers walked across the mantle to sniff around the candle handler before making his way to the armchair. Severus’ head was starting to feel a bit funny - a bit floaty, if you will - and he wasn’t sure he was fit to go looking for the tea tree cream, even though the rat looked just dreadful. His front wrists and legs were almost bare, and his hindquarters were looking a bit thin and patchy. Charity was a bit worried that the life-extending effects of being exposed to magic were reaching their limits, which meant the exceptionally old senior rat might be running down to the end of his time. Severus held out his left forearm for Scabbers to sniff in greeting and didn’t scold him for curling up next to his leg. It was mad to want to thank a rat for accepting him and simply letting the Dark Mark be a component of him, not his whole personality and life, and yet it was the skeleton in Severus’ closet that also didn’t make dating easy. Severus had been quite alright with doing the little things to keep in touch with alumni, apothecaries, his network of fellow recovering Death Eaters, his friends (or at least acquaintances) on staff, and waiting until he could send an application to a Matchmaker once he was 35.

“I don’t think this screwy pumpkin is helping, Scabs”, Severus set the half drunk glass on the inn table besides his armrest. He was accustomed to drinks with a little less punch that went down a little better than this, and quite frankly, he wasn’t very good at drinking because his father had scared him off the experimental party stage of university. Hours of Mind Healing sessions, years of death anniversaries, and enough time to move on from his feelings for Lily were good and helpful, but Severus had found himself in a confusing area of not knowing exactly how he felt about Charity. She had never really been unpleasant to look at, but the feminizing effects of Transmogrifying and wearing a more witchy wardrobe than years past weren’t helping the nauseous butterflies in his stomach. Why did crushes have to be so uncomfortable? Why did his conscience twinge when he couldn’t tell her why he had to visit Lupin so often? It cut into time he would much rather be spending grading essays, visiting during brewing, or - his thoughts were a little too hazy to pull out specifics - just spending time together with her. Severus sipped at the vial of Sobering Solution, “Scratch that, I am very sure I don’t agree with vodka, Scabbers.”

##### Nov 1993

The neat cursive of a Quick-Quotes Quill calibrated to take dictation, especially popular as a writing aid for the injured, sick, elderly, and otherwise incapacitated:

 _Professor S. Snape,_  


_I would make an in person visit, but I’m afraid you’re aware of my lunar infirmary that leaves a note the easiest method. I wasn’t aware of how last minute the Headmaster asking you to substitute for me for the Monday lesson following the full moon was, but I would greatly appreciate if you don’t cover lycanthropy in any future substitute lessons. The Essential Defence Against the Dark Arts by Arsenius Jigger is comendably up to date in several areas of study, but I’m afraid the lycan chapter is woefully outdated (and biased in some sections)._

_I was rather surprised that several students had completed your assigned essay on identifying werewolves already, and I must admit I had rather you hadn’t chosen that topic. I am aware that I am teaching dozens of bright young students and several hundred have already sort of been taught some of this material; it is incredibly likely that they shall put 2 and 2 together before the year ends without interference on your part. I will cover my preferred up to date lycanthropy unit come spring term, and the Headmaster and I already have an understanding that I will most likely only fill this post for a year._

_I hesitate to speculate about why you taught this subject. I can’t deny that the pessimist in me is afraid that you’re trying to speed up my eventual release from my contract. The optimist would like to think you’re being overly cautious because we werewolves can be a potential danger; The Daily Prophet simply has to reprint their articles about Fenrir Greyback and his infamous packs from the war to see that. The pragmatist is resigned to the fact that while the Wizarding world has made incremental progress in werewolf rights since the war ended, I can’t ignore that I was your personal brush with being bit. You may be alright with other werewolves, but unfortunately, there may be too much water under our bridge._

_I know I’ve apologized before, but it has been well over a decade since we’ve interacted, and the healing of wounds is not as linear as we would like it to be. I am sorry for my discretions and how close I came to turning you in our youth, Severus. You don’t have to be chummy or even like me, now, but I would appreciate enough civility to get us through the school year. I will most likely start looking for employment come spring because I’ll more than likely be out of Hogwarts come summer. It’s not a pitiable plea, just a fact._

_Respectfully,_  
_Professor Remus J. Lupin_

##### Nov 29, 1993

Oh, the self-absorbed days of his youth when Severus could be a prat, and his conscience wouldn’t remind him later in the night that he was being an arse. Despite a slightly awkward apology in the break room following Remus’ note, the other wizard had been painfully relieved that he had shown up with this month’s Wolfsbane Potion. Perhaps when Severus was fresh out of Hogwarts, he might have been passive-aggressive enough to do such a thing, but he would like to think he gained even a little maturity in the years since. It was the night of the full moon, and he was trying to think of a tangible means of apology while rubbing tea tree cream into the four nearly bald legs of the squirming rat in his lap. Scabbers’ self-barbering had progressed beyond basilisk levels, which did not bode well for the state of the school in Severus’ opinion, but the only change he could think of was this year’s retinue of dementors and Remus’ arrival. A werewolf in their human form should pose no threat to a rat, though he could probably smell something canine in Remus’ scent, and the wolf form would probably bypass such small prey unless it were incredibly hungry. But Remus was a nearly harmless wolf under the effects of the Wolfsbane Potion, curled up in his office and sleeping. It was a far cry from their youth when Remus had to no choice but to hide away in the Shrieking Shack, pray the Whomping Willow would keep people away, and hope the pain potions could take the edge off the post-transformation haze.

Severus released his hold on Scabbers, who retreated to the armrest to indignantly clean his face, and stood to rifle through his trunk of stored notebooks, binders, and textbooks not related to Potionology and therefore not kept on the shelves from university. Certain tweaks to brewing instructions made some potions a little more werewolf friendly, and while he would have to wait until Christmas to have samples of the pain relieving potions for Remus to try, Severus could at least share some of his notes now.

> PROPERTIES OF METALS  
>  From a religious and alchemical standpoint, SILVER is a purifying metal that causes some sort of reaction when in contact with “impure” creatures, which is why skin contact with this metal supposedly causes pain in vampires and werewolves in folklore. Realistically, silver causes no reaction and is safe to interact with, unless the lycan had an existing metal allergy prior to turning. Paradoxically, silver actually restores potion efficiency and standard dosage instructions, resulting in fewer tweaks to make a potion lycan friendly.
> 
> Brewing Uses: Silver edged knives - only serrations and cutting edge need to be silver, handle materials have no bearing on efficiency (can be used for any potion, found in any apothecary). Argentum stirring rod - silver and steel, can be used for any potion (rated for cryo-potions and found in that section of any apothecary). Cryo-Ag cauldron - steel, cryo-potion rated cauldron with microscopic silver layer (can be used for any potion, but it must be ordered in person at a certified apothecary).

It made homebrewing a little harder for werewolves not inclined to potions, but providing University of Wales, Aberystwyth as a source would make it easier for a brewer associated with an apothecary that Remus could afford to follow the new instructions. Although, some of the tweaks were very minor, barely a footnote in standard recipes, and spoke more to the dedication of homebrewers and professors intent on collecting tips into one collection of useful information.

> Pepper Up: Standard recipes use peppermint oil because flavoring oils are more concentrated and intense than extracts (only need a few drops), and the flavor is “purer” and clear-tasting. However, heightened and oversensitive smell receptors can make the standard concentration level nauseating and unpleasant. Instead, use 1 tsp (one teaspoon) peppermint extract.

After a moment of consideration, Severus dug into his binder from his term in Lycanthropy Potionology to find Professor Hood’s contact information. Matthias Hood was the Head of the Lycan Division in the Were and Shape-Shifter Department, and he was a passionate proponent of the reduced cost brewing program to help lower income werewolves, which given the high rates of unemployment and underemployment that plagued the demographic was a considerable amount. The Ministry of Magic didn’t like to admit that the cost of Wolfsbane Potion kept a sizable portion of Great Britain's werewolves from remaining on the Werewolf Registrar, but Professor Hood was co-chair on a research committee running experiments to adjust Wolfsbane Potion into a weekly regime and substitute less expensive ingredients among the various research goals. Granted, some werewolves balked at being test subjects because they were opposed to being dehumanized, but the University of Wales prided itself in hiring werewolves to staff these relevant committees, having the highest levels of accommodations in lycan studies, and paying all participants. In addition to helping to discover a way to help make it easier for werewolves to be Wolfsbane compliant, the studies eased the levels of poverty in the lycan population, provided wolf compatible transformation areas, and were an acceptable alternative to not being on the Ministry Werewolf Registrar. Not that many would admit to it, but such university programs were filling in the gaps that breaking up the lycan villages before the war had caused.

##### Yule 1993

Severus prided himself in not being caught unawares and in his pajamas this year when Charity dropped by his quarters. She had returned from last minute Christmas shopping in Hogsmeade with a thick winter cloak and snow dampened jeans, and he still wasn’t entirely sure why she had gotten a t-shirt for a recent movie, _Hocus Pocus_ , when it was clearly a comedic Mugglization of witches. Something about liking the song _I Put A Spell On You_ and it being funnier as a Muggle-born. She set her boots by the fireplace to dry and scooped up the snoozing rat from his winter cloak spread across the back of the armchair, “Damn, Scabs, you’re not supposed to be hairless.”

“I’ve been applying that cream like you said”, Severus motioned towards the jar of tea tree cream on the mantle next to the rest of his holiday decorations, “I think his hair is coming back in some patchy places, but it’s been a bit hard to tell with the weight loss.”

“I thought the dementors were too far from the castle to have an effect like this”, Charity shifted over to make room for Severus to sit down, and he made a mental note to look into buying a couch, so there would be a little more room and his stomach would settle. He shrugged, watching her comfortably swipe her fingers across his head in a slow arc that scratched behind both ears, “I’m not entirely sure what else it could be, unless we have another basilisk lurking about.”

“Let’s hope not, Scabs”, Charity murmured to the rat. Scabbers had finally woken up enough to disappear off her armrest in a beeline to Charity’s Christmas present that Severus had needed to open and assemble early, under her supervision. A cage with a water bottle and food bowl. He still protested that Scabbers was not his pet and should return to Ronald Weasley, his actual owner, but he also couldn’t deny that he was worried he might awaken to a little rat corpse one of these days. Or, in his mind worse, he might not be able to find where the decomposing body was hidden away in some rat accessible nook or cranny. Severus tried to keep his guardianship of the ailing rat unofficial by unlocking the door for free reign while he was in the room, and Scabbers in rat adaptable fashion didn’t seem to mind. He had the worrisome habit of not eating unless Severus was in the vicinity, which only confirmed Charity’s suspicions that he may not see another school year.

“I see you got one of Remus’ cards”, Charity pointed to the handmade gift with its kaleidoscope layering of crisp pieces of paper in shades of blue and white and a large dark blue rubber stamped snowflake across the ensemble. On the inside, Remus had handwritten a note in silver ink thanking him for the lycan Potionology notes and recommendations. Severus could vaguely remember seeing him assemble cards similar to this at some point during the war for Order members because crafting a card by hand with just enough time and effort to look intentional and neat was an inexpensive alternative to not having a gift, but he didn’t think it was his place to explain to Charity that the Lupins had never been well off before Remus was ensnared by a lifetime of werewolf bias into near poverty. “I heard he even sent one to Professor Binns based off a historical design during his lifetime. Poor ghost was so emotional he floated clear through the floor to the classroom below.”

“At least Remus goes through the effort of personalization”, Severus debated if he could play off sneaking a half dose of Calming Draught into a butterbeer because those damn butterflies were reminding him of why he had grown used to not dating, “Almost anything is better than autographed self portraits of Idiot Who Shall Not Be Named.”

“Pomona was on her third Firewhiskey when she said that”, Charity stifled a giggle at the somewhat hazy but immensely satisfying get together the staff had arranged away from castle grounds and their familiar Hogsmeade watering holes at the end of last term. Getting drunk to celebrate Lockhart’s departure may have been tactless considering his loss of memories, but they weren’t about to reschedule a desperately needed outlet to blow off steam that had been in the works since those portraits could be binned. Severus’ heart gave a funny sort of wiggle as Charity grew somber and pulled an envelope from the inside of her cloak because Burbage had never been one to look so serious in his interactions with her, “The good thing about the University of Wales having the best Potionology research department in Great Britain is that your alma mater was ecstatic to hear about an alum getting approved for a potion recipe copyright.”

“But the bad thing?”, Severus prompted as Charity pulled the letter out. She gave him a wry smile, “Only you would worry about the other shoe dropping with news like that”, and handed over the letter for him to read, “They would like your permission to double check effectiveness, potion-potion interactions, ruling out potential allergies, and all that stuff by running a preliminary study. Well, something along those lines.”

He skimmed the alternatively academic and legalistic paragraphs that went into the full scope of the study’s objectives, and Severus couldn’t say he was surprised. There was the chance that he’d found a recipe specific to Charity as an individual, or her relative lack of Transmogrification in terms of the standard spell and enchantment procedure had effected the potions’ results. It was all predictable disclaimers for the protocol that had to be followed before his brewing instructions could be made commercially available and these few partial Transmogrification Potions sold on apothecary shelves. However, there was an addendum from the Head of Gender Studies that didn’t bother with objective posturing in extending congratulations and looking forward to ‘a breakthrough in Potionology that could change the lives of wixen who have otherwise slipped through the Transmogrification cracks thus far’ that would ‘revolutionize the lived experiences of moggies throughout Great Britain and hopefully beyond’. The peculiar tingle of satisfaction always warmed Severus’ heart, and Charity looked equally pleased to see him smiling instead of flexing his cynicism.

“I know it’s not a final announcement or anything, but I was wondering if you’d, perhaps, be willing to celebrate over dinner?”, Charity had a terribly adorable blush, and Severus was relieved that his stomach’s jittery inhabitants had flown away in the wake of the almost giddy news of success. He felt nigh on invincible, and like he may not have wasted his youth away holed up in a boarding school as a professor, and this must be what Felix Felicis was like because Severus could feel with a surety down to his fingertips that he had a chance with Charity, “I’d love to.”

##### Feb 13, 1994

Severus had no choice but to face the grim reality that he was not a stylish man or a particularly cultured wizard. He had a week’s worth of his customary black robes that could be paired with a white or light grey button down and black trousers, which were not suitable for looking like he put effort into dressing up and wearing something different. His university t-shirts and jeans were too casual for the restaurant they had picked, but it was a Muggle establishment so his formal dress robes would be out of place, regardless of wearing the black or dark green and silver set. He had to cheat by utilizing his work clothes from the waist down, and he had to admit he might have misplaced his tie in the five years since he last needed one. The green button down with dragons in red stitching along the collar and sleeve hems from a ‘casual formal’ university event would have to do. It was sheer luck that he still had a Muggle suit jacket instead of needing to glamour his winter cloak. A sparse wardrobe made for quick packing and a light trunk while traveling, but it was backfiring tonight, the Sunday before St. Valentine’s Day and what was supposed to be a lovely dinner at Intermezzo.

Severus was not a man with a huge repertoire of dates, and he didn’t particularly see a point in dining alone at such a fancy looking restaurant as Intermezzo. He sense of not belonging only grew as the maître d′ escorted him to a section with soft classical music and glazed candle holders. Charity had worn a lovely periwinkle blue dress that matched her nails, but he couldn’t quite place what was different about her make-up for the night. Any efforts to remember in the following days would be stymied by the wine she had taken the lead in ordering because he couldn’t pronounce Pinot Grigio or Sauvignon Blanc let alone tell anyone what the difference between them was. What he could remember was that she looked stunning, and Severus’ stomach had done a peculiar flip-flop at the anxious thought in the back of his mind that she was out of his league. Unfortunately, he could remember the phantom itch that crawled along his spine while looking at the menu because there were no prices listed anywhere. Spinach salad with lemon and mint. Smoked salmon cucumbers. Braised oxtails with mushrooms. Roasted goose with honey glazed carrots and parsnips. Quail heart stew. Applescotch parfait. Raspberry mousse tart. His mum was probably rolling in her grave.

Severus was not a very talkative and open wizard, barring his Mind Healer who had taken years to peel back the layers of self-protection after the war, and the date almost ended before they had finished their salads. He didn’t intend to come off so detached, Charity thought his discomfort had to do with being in public with her, he couldn’t use magic to put out the sudden jump in flames from her magical core radiating anger, and she had to fill her second glass of wine after he dumped it in the candle holder. The waiter was certainly confused yet relieved that he didn’t need the extinguisher he’d appeared with, and an embarrassingly frank conversation about Severus’ childhood poverty and Charity’s misadventures in trying to date while not consistently read as a witch was the only reason they made it to their entrees. Thank Salazar, Charity had been the one to initiate splitting the bill because he didn’t want to admit that he didn’t have enough money on him to pay for both of their dinners.

Severus was an incredibly lucky man to not have bollocksed the night. They had wound up a little more comfortable and relaxed as the wine settled in on top of their desserts, and those pesky butterflies had finally flown away. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed so openly and enjoyed a dinner conversation so much, and even Charity had admitted to having a good time in the line for the nearest Floo stop. Severus had been honest that he’d never tried Apparating while tipsy before, so they had agreed on the slightly longer route back to Hogsmeade. He wasn’t sure if it was the wine or Charity’s Warming Charms, but it was nice in a companionable way to leisurely walk through streets past the snow covered shops and gently sober up on the path back to the castle. He had let himself sink into a carefully alone existence at Hogwarts, and Severus was quite sure in the heady moment that he should try to change that. Bloody hell, the Dark Lord was gone, vanquished, _dead_ , and he hadn’t come back in 12 years. The giddy confidence had vanished as Severus had stopped in front of Charity’s door to her private quarters, though. He had a rather vague memory that he was supposed to offer a goodnight kiss, but he wound up admitting with the surprising honesty of tipsiness that he didn’t have a lot of experience with snogging on dates. If Charity’s giggling hadn’t made his chest feel pleasantly funny, his pride would’ve felt a little more stung because witches laughing at him had never meant anything good in his experience. However, she settled for a polite peck on the cheek and helping to remove the smeared lipstick, which set off a new round of giggles. Salazar help them, Severus hoped they both had enough Sobering Solution for the morning.

##### Late Winter 1994

Severus shut the door to his private quarters with a sigh. Going out to dinner with Charity and watching her relax into her excitement over something from Muggle Studies was rather nice, and even their goodnight kiss had been rather nice. Charity was far taller than any other witch he’d ever tried to kiss, and it turns out removing some of the awkward crouching and body placement logistics made snogging far more enjoyable. However, Severus had not been prepared for what he felt nudging into his thigh. On the one hand, he had known that Charity hadn’t undergone Transmogrification that resulted in bodily changes, but on the other hand, having never been interested in wizards, he didn’t exactly have any past experience that could help him to figure out what to do. Charity had been more confused that Severus wasn’t reacting similarly, and he was quite certain they had parted with her under the impression he was a virgin. A rustling noise drew his attention to the cage.

“You’re not supposed to be making the bald patches worse”, Severus grumbled as he opened the door and picked up the unprotesting rat. He settled into the armchair in front of the fire and methodically began rubbing the tea tree cream into Scabbers’ skin. The self-barbering was just getting worse and setting new records every day for thinning and bald patches in his opinion, but Charity didn’t think it was time to throw in the towel with the senior pet. She had some sort of theory about travel stress at his age and years of stressful events - the basilisk and dementors - that might mean he’d improve come end of term. Despite jokes about adding him to the ingredients storage, Severus was conflicted on managing Scabbers’ end of life care and potentially returning to his quarters to find a lifeless body laying in the cage one of these days. Tobias had never really allowed him to have a pet growing up, and he was concerned that he might actually miss the rat. For all the human worrying going on, Scabbers seemed content to just curl up in his lap and doze.

“I bet it’s easier being a rat”, Severus gently rubbed behind one of Scabbers’ ears and spoke quietly, “I highly doubt rat society has the concept of virginity.” One of the logs in the fireplace cracked and settled. “Not that I am one, but the fumbling and awkwardness never really disappeared with that mystical first experience. I am very aware of what Muggles and wizards say about sex, and I truly wish I didn’t know so much about my roommates’ sex lives in undergrad, but I’m just not like that.”

Scabbers tucked his tail closer to his body as he readjusted into a tighter ball, and Severus debated Summoning a bottle of something. If he asked politely enough, he might be able to get one of the house elves to bring him a cup of hot chocolate. He did have an awful weak spot for anything peppermint flavored in his hot chocolate, but he also didn’t feel like going through the effort. And really, that was his whole mismatch with sex. “It’s a lot of effort and work that I don’t even want to do. How did that one mediwizard phrase it? -- There’s nothing to keep my broom from flying; I just don’t want to go for a ride -- He’s not wrong, but that was embarrassing to have a witch I was trying to date drag me in for supposed erectile dysfunction.”

Severus stopped scratching behind Scabbers’ ear and let his hand gently drape over the rat’s body. He’d always been a bit on the plump side, but it had always made sense that the Weasleys would err on the side of loving their pets with food when they did the same with their children. But now, Severus could feel the little bones and empty spaces where there was no longer any padding, and he felt overly aware of needing to make sure he didn’t crush the ailing rat. It was much easier to focus on taking care of Scabbers than to think about everything complicating this evening.

##### Easter 1994

“Severus, you are needed in the Hospital Wing”, a wispy silver hare glided through the wall closest to Severus in his private quarters with the calm voice of Poppy, “Please bring all Transmogrification notes for Charity.”

It hadn’t taken him very long into his residency as Potions Master to learn the tells of Poppy’s messages with her Patronus - frenzied jumping gave away fear (last year’s Petrifications), unnaturally long bounds conveyed urgency (creatures were not supposed to be used in Polyjuice for a reason), emergencies cut down to the bare essentials of what he should bring and often left out his name altogether (very confusing the first time he needed to help undo an improperly brewed love potion with newt tails as his only clue). Thankfully, Poppy sounded more puzzled than anything, and Severus could gather his notes without worrying about potential worse case scenarios. He wasn’t sure if it was a good sign or not that the privacy curtains around the only occupied bed in the Hospital Wing were closed, but he trusted that finding the school’s Healer in her office with a stack of reference books and a roll of parchment were signs that nothing life-or-death was happening.

“Thank you, Severus”, Poppy tapped the scroll with her long, thin cherry wand so that a selection of bindrunes and glyphs shimmered above the parchment in golden light, “I need to document the magical signatures in each Transmogrification potion, tweak my diagnostic spells, and then we can narrow down the rogue catalyst.”

“The rogue what?”, Severus knew the Potionology definition of a catalyst, which increased the rate of magical signature mixing and therefore sped up some element of the brewing process, but he wasn’t entirely sure what a Healing catalyst would do. His gut didn’t particularly like the idea of a catalyst going rogue either, but there was something about the way the older witch was prodding the silver glyph of the cambinip with her personal wand that was reassuring. Poppy had been lightning quick on triage during the war, and he knew she would be in the thick of it with her Healing wand drawn if Charity’s situation required immediate action. She withdrew the medium length, sturdy oak wand adorned with the runes of her Healing credentials from her neat bun to trace lines between the magical signatures of a particular potion in order to group them together.

“The layers of Transfiguration spells and Glamours that make up Transmogrification spellwork are typically anchored to ingredients within the standard Transmogrification Potion”, Poppy gestured to the open reference book before her with its chart of ingredients and magical signature glyphs that would appear under different diagnostic spells, “To prevent Charm level redundancy, some of the Transmogrification Potion ingredients are used as asymmetrical catalysts, which means that charm-potion side effects are much more likely to happen. Potion catalysts are symmetrical if that helps?”

“I’m still not sure how a catalyst goes rogue”, Severus had the utmost respect for Healing and everyone who made it through the licensing assessment because he could feel with an absurd certainty that the day a Potion catalyst went rogue he was retiring. Poppy used both wands to prod at the floating image of a fish egg, “If you do a spell but don’t have the potion ingredient that catalyzes it, another ingredient’s magical signature might accidentally get shuffled into its place. In the case of Transmogrification, there’s a system of charm-potion associations. The cambinip anchors a spell, the fish eggs anchor a different one, and so on. I believe a potion with an ingredient that you haven’t used in your derivatives that does appear in the standard Transmogrification Potion has set off an uncontrolled Transfiguration spell for that catalyst.”

“That’s a rather precarious system then”, his insides felt uncomfortably frozen at the full implications of a rogue catalyst, and Poppy hummed in agreement. Was Charity still in one piece? Was she partially Transfigured into a creature based on an ingredient? The analytical Potionology mind was fascinated by the puzzle he was observing and calmly looking forward to the problem solving, but years of friendship were overriding the distance in a spike of concern. A pang of guilt was welling up from somewhere near the reminder that he was dating Charity, and Severus was no longer sure if the silence in the Hospital Wing was a good sign. The magical signatures were finally split into their respective potion groupings with an unsorted list that had a high amount of overlap in ingredients, and he could only watch his colleague consult her references in an attempt to identify the catalyst and its potion. Was Charity still conscious? Was she fit for visitors while partially Transfigured? Would it be inappropriate to ask if he could see her?

“...‘Situational male-to-female sex changes in _Dascyllus aruanus_ is the basis for humbug damselfish eggs being an ingredient in wizard-to-witch Transmogrification Potion.’ That certainly explains the overlap with Potion X, but what is the catalyst?”

Severus quietly slipped out of the office and made sure to shut the door in case Poppy continued to talk through the problem at hand out loud. He slowly walked to the closest side of the curtains and found himself unable to think of anything to say. An absurd fear had sprung to mind that Charity was now part fish complete with a Water Bubble-Head Charm for underwater breathing, but he pushed that ridiculous idea away. First things first, she would either be awake or not, “Charity?”

A slight rustle of the bedsheets. A sleepy but recognizable voice, “Severus?”

“I wasn’t sure if you were awake”, Severus automatically lowered his voice, afraid that he’d just disturbed her. Charity yawned, “The pain reliever’s just makin’ me sleepy.”

He could feel his pulse surge unpleasantly as he stared at the pale blue curtains, and his thoughts were unhelpfully stuck on the fact that Charity was on a pain reliever. Would kind of partial Transfiguration would cause enough pain for that? The wonderful thing about magic was that it rendered many so-called impossible things possible, but the horrible thing about magic was that a mishap could lead to impossible scenarios. More rustling from behind the curtain, “Sev?”

“Poppy didn’t mention you were in pain”, Severus cleared his throat and sat in the visitor’s chair, feeling horribly young and awkward. Transfiguration accidents were often embarrassing, and he wouldn’t really blame Charity if she wanted privacy, but he had no idea what he could do. Charity coughed, “Er, the Transfiguration itself isn’t painful, but erm, well, I don’t suppose you’ve ever had what feels like a small dragon on your chest, have you?”

“There aren’t any dragon parts in any of those potions?”

“So?”

“You shouldn’t have a dragon on your chest.”

“What?”

“If your partial Transfiguration is tied to an ingredient as an anchor for the spell, and there aren’t any dragon parts, you can’t have anything dragon related.”

“Do you not know figurative language?”, an oddly sloshy sound could be heard over the mattress squeaking as Charity readjusted, “Did . . . Did Poppy not tell you?”

“I’m not an official part of your Healing team”, Severus carefully kept his tone as neutral as possible because he didn’t want her to think he was blaming her for a component of school policy, “I only need to know certain information to assist patients in the Hospital Wing, and this isn’t really a case where I need the full breakdown. Patient-Healer confidentiality.”

“Oh, right”, the sheets rustled again, “I reckon I can’t hide this forever then. I’m experiencing sudden onset, er, breast augmentation.”

On the one hand, he was relieved this was still humanoid Transfiguration and less complicated to fix, but on the other hand, Severus didn’t know if he could convey being relieved. The last he had known Charity wasn’t interested in breast augmentation, so a seemingly spontaneous and uncontrolled occurrence wouldn’t exactly be pleasant. A slight popping noise like Charity had cracked her back rang out loudly in the empty Hospital Wing, and she sighed, “Because it wasn’t intentional, they’re just doing their own thing. Huge size difference, each one’s cycling through several sizes, no adjustment stages, the proper charms and potions aren’t allowing for my own mammary tissue to grow so there’s this liquidy stuff. My back’s killing me.”

“I’m sorry. This can’t be easy”, Severus wasn’t sure if knowing the source of the sloshing noises made them more or less unsettling, but he found it was easier to ignore them by keeping up the conversation, “Have you ingested any potions outside of your typical regimen recently?”

Charity hesitated in a way that set of his professorial senses that a student was edging around a question, “Just how long does ‘recently’ cover, exactly? I haven’t had anything in the last week or two, but . . .”

Likewise, Severus edged around answering in the calm, speculative tone he typically reserved for theorem discussions in his NEWT classes, “Short-term side effects can be easier to spot, but from what I can tell of Transmogrification as a non-expert brewer, it can take several weeks to several months for the full effects to manifest in the body. The cumulative effects of certain ingredients or shifting hormonal levels could produce a delayed side effect.”

“Around the New Year, I started the preparatory stage for - erm - I started taking Pre-Hippocampia”, Severus stood, though it may have been a bit too quickly for a conversation where they couldn’t see each other, “Please, don’t be mad --”

“This is very likely to be the mystery potion Poppy is trying to identify”, Severus strode to the office door as quickly as he could without sounding like he was actively running away, “Hold that thought --”, he made sure to shut the door because he had no idea what the potion did and could therefore reveal about Charity before blurting out, “Pre-Hippocampia.”

Poppy flicked her personal wand at the reference book until the quickly shuffling pages stopped at a section with a seahorse emblazoned across the top of the first page. It was somewhat anticlimactic to watch the oak wand trace out lines between all of the ingredients and properly label Potion X, but Severus knew Poppy’s effort to research the rogue catalyst had paid off because she had a new scroll of diagnostic spells and was out the door in no time. He felt too old to be helping anyone triage magical maladies, but at least he wasn’t needed for the final stages of diagnosis and treatment. Some matters were best left to professionals. Severus side eyed the open pages of _Transmogrification Diagnostic Symbology_ compiled by the Ministerial Health Service, and he tried not to think about the potential potion-potion side effects that he could have accidentally set off by not knowing Charity was on this particular potion.

> PRE-HIPPOCAMPIA
> 
> _Goal: Artificial womb creation for those born without a uterus._
> 
> Path 1: Gay men interested in carrying a child without a female surrogate being involved in the pregnancy and childbirth process.  
>  _Consult male pregnancy resources for full notes on this path._
> 
> Path 2: Transmogrified witches who wish to have the ability to carry their own child without a female surrogate being involved in the pregnancy and childbirth process.  
>  _See chart on next page for expected stage of Transmogrification and how this starting place is in between male and female womb creation stages._

Severus paged through the section more out of a morbid curiosity than genuine interest, like he could see two cars unable to avoid an accident and couldn’t look away. Alchemical equations for tailoring dosages. Calibrating the potion with layers of spells and charms over at least a year (and a presumption that a witch wants full body Transmogrification, which is probably how Charity ran into this side effect). Diagnostic spells for determining functionality. Pre-Hippocampia Spermatozoa and complicated Transfiguration for creating ova out of sperm. A chart with the pros and cons of artificial ovaries (Does oestrogen actually help Transmogrified witches?). Pre-Hippocampia Ovaria, more spells, more months of waiting. Hippocampia featuring lined seahorses, astronomically timed dosages to create a fertility cycle without oestrogen, and more charts. Potion variations with different seahorse species to accommodate allergies and side effects (Is it helpful to use locally sourced ingredients in long-term potions?). Notes about Mind Healing consultations and reminders to be patient because it was years of preparation before anyone could even think of getting pregnant (If you do not have viable sperm, there are limited ways to compensate for that when creating ova outside of donors).

On an intellectual level, it was fascinating to see the centuries of alchemy and potion brewing distill into such a complex intersection of Healing and Transfiguration. Personally, Severus could now understand why Charity had thought he might be scared by the mention of Pre-Hippocampia because it was inextricably linked to partnered sex, even in these clinical charts. Performance issues while under the pressure of womb creation. How to address a partner’s fertility status. Tucked away in a footnote, a recognition that some Transmogrified witches are partnered with other witches (Please talk to your Healers about Pre-Hippocampia Ova and the path to creating viable sperm out of eggs). Which love and lust potions are compatible with artificial fertilization? The success rate within one year (two, three). Is there a psychological benefit to dysphoric witches who are not actively trying to get pregnant? How to maintain an artificial womb and fertility cycle. Pros and cons of different birth control methods. The myths and facts about pregnancy dysphoria (Is it Transmogrification regret or “normal” mood swings?). Successful fertilization and the next steps for pregnancy.

##### Spring 1994

“I know this isn’t quite what you meant”, a part of Severus was immensely regretting that he had barely paused to make sure his Mark was covered and thrown on a faded black bathrobe that had seen better days before knocking on Charity’s door, but he held out Scabbers in explanation, “Healing spells for humans of this magnitude don’t work on animals.”

“Bloody fuck”, Charity had pulled on a Tardis bathrobe and fuzzy pink slippers at this time of night, and there was something about watching her cradle the brown rat covered in blood while racing to stand under a light that made the injuries seem worse. Yes, he panicked because it seemed like an awful lot of blood, but when the rodent person was panicking and muttering to herself while brushing her wand over sections of split skin, it definitely seemed bad.

“I don’t know where he went”, Severus crossed his arms over his chest and carefully walked to the rug in an effort to keep his toes warm, “He made a godsawful squeak like something was terribly wrong as soon as he got back to my quarters, and he was bleeding all over my slippers.”

“I think I got the bleeding to stop”, Charity Summoned a nearby wooden chair, a white hand towel decorated with flowers from the bathroom, and a large mixing bowl from somewhere behind him. Severus drug a chair over to join her as she sat and directed water from her wand over the matted hair into the bowl. In his opinion, it wasn’t a good sign that Scabbers was letting him gently towel him dry without any protesting, but Charity just settled into the pattern of washing, checking his skin, and twirling her wand in a variation on a Sterilization Spell, “I think I’ve seen this before when a cat got a hold of Bludgie.”

“Gesundheit.”

Charity’s lip twitched in amusement, “He came from a litter with Quidditch names and was surprisingly shy. I’m not seeing minced meat under the skin, so I think Scabs avoided muscle damage.”

“Alright”, Severus didn’t particularly like admitting this, but he liked watching the bloodstained water collect in the bowl even less, “I was hoping he’d pass a little more painlessly than this.”

“Aww, you do care.”

Severus huffed at Charity’s light teasing, “I thought he’d pass in his sleep, or something. I didn’t think rats came with this much violence and bloodshed.”

Small, precise flicks of the wand heralded a Suturing Spell, though it had less of the glide in the wrist than he was accustomed to for the human version. Perhaps it was simply practice from the war that eased his movements and made suturing as attention demanding as chopping roots, but Severus courteously remained quiet to reduce distractions. It was almost two in the morning, and he’d awoken Charity out of a dead sleep; it was quite reasonable that the adrenaline rush was making her hands tremble a bit. It was less than ideal circumstances, but it wasn’t unpleasant to listen to the dying fire and the ticking of an unseen clock while sitting in Charity’s private quarters. It combined with the soft murmured repetitions of the incantation into a rather soothing background noise, all things considered.

A gentle pressure on his shoulder led to an ungraceful jerking motion, black eyes snapping open, and a mumbled, “’M ’wake.”

“Hm-mm”, Charity held out a freshly cleaned and fully stitched up Scabbers, who was curled up into a sleeping ball, “I gave him two drops of Blood Replenishing Potion, but I don’t have anything safe for an animal for pain. We just need to make sure he doesn’t get an infection, and I think he’ll scrape by.”

“Right”, Severus rubbed at his eyes and accepted the sleeping rat, “Sorry about disturbing you so late.”

“I did say you could stop by anytime”, Charity tucked her hair behind her ears, in a slight nervous tell, and he hated the awkward trailing pause, “I know you were offering something else subtextually, Charity. I just don’t - do sex.”

“I’ve noticed”, she sounded apologetic and yet relieved that she wasn’t the one who had to point it out. Severus pushed away the unhelpful mental observation that they were both in pajamas and bathrobes, well past midnight, in Charity’s private quarters where there was more than one surface a person might imagine sexual activity happening, “I should’ve been a little more upfront, but I don’t really have a sex drive.”

“Ever?”, he wasn’t sure if he was just tired or starting to get defensive, but he couldn’t be sure if there was an edge of pity to that question or not, “I didn’t say I’ve never experienced it, it’s just not common.”

“I didn’t say never”, Charity’s voice had gone a bit flat in her grumbling. It was far too late at night to be having this conversation, but Severus didn’t want to leave the impression that he was mad at Charity specifically, “I’ve had enough Healer consultations sprung on me to know that I’m not broken and there’s nothing medically wrong.”

“Sorry”, Charity folded her arms across her chest, “I wasn’t trying to say there was something wrong with your prick, but it’s not exactly easy trying to figure out if it’s uncomfortable with mine.”

Severus snorted at the phrasing, and Charity huffed and rolled her eyes. Gods, they were both tired, and the only one who was going to be well rested in the morning was the rat currently curled up in his lap. He skipped an opportunity that was just asking for a sarcastic, pedantic response in favor of reassurance, “I don’t think it would matter what state your genitals are in because my prick only gets it into its head to actively seek out sex once in a blue moon.”

##### June Full Moon 1994

From the Sealed Scrolls Archive of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Auror Division:

WITNESS STATEMENT  
Of _ _Severus Tobias Snape_ _ , on this day _ 6 June _ of the year _ 1994 _, in the presence of Auror _ Michael Olliff _.

I reported to Professor Lupin’s office with this evening’s dose of Wolfsbane Potionᚋ, and when I saw the map on his desk showing that he was already in the Shrieking Shackᚌ, I followed through the Whomping Willow’s tunnel. I discovered Mr. Blackᚍ with Professor Lupin and three Third Year students, of which two were Muggle raised and needed explanations for Azkaban, Mr. Black’s supposed war activities, and Animagi. According to Mr. Black, he had been falsely imprisoned after his alleged victim, Peter Pettigrew, faked his own death and his proof lay in forcing Mr. Pettigrew out of his Animagus form, of which he was aware because of a teenage plan to keep the wolf company as animalsᚎ. In the not so calm debate, I was Stunned and did not regain consciousness until later in the evening after moonrise when I escorted the students back to the safety of the castle. I never witnessed proof of Mr. Pettigrew’s life, but the students claimed he escaped while Mr. Black was preventing Prof. Lupin from interacting with anyone while in wolf form.

I can confirm there were zero (0) bites that resulted in transmission of lycanthropy to all non-lycans present during tonight’s proceedings. All three students gained superficial cuts while getting past the Whomping Willow, one student had acquired a broken leg prior, and the Healing properties inherent to transformation handled any injuries to Mr. Black. I can neither confirm nor deny what animal forms Mr. Black or Mr. Pettigrew may take as Animagi, should Mr. Pettigrew be aliveᚏ.

NOTES  
ᚋ: Remus John Lupin, registered LYCAN BB 10 03 60 C with the Werewolf Registry since 1964. Prior records indicate Wolfsbane Compliant since commercial availability.

ᚌ: Pre-Wolfsbane accommodations at Hogwarts included guarded access to an empty building referred to by locals as the “Shrieking Shack”. The Matron reportedly utilized a map to know when Lupin was in the building, but she refused to “jeopardize future students who needed werewolf accommodations of a similar nature” by revealing further information or showing any Aurors said map. As it does not record time and locations of whoever appears on the map, Senior Auror Othmer decided it was not necessary to seek a warrant.

ᚍ: Sirius Black III. Charges: Murder of Wizard - Dueling, Public Magic - D32 (Muggle-worthy Excuse needed), Public Magic - D25 (Collateral damage), Public Magic - D4 (Accidental; Results include severe bodily harm and/or death), Involuntary Manslaughter of 13 Muggles; Pending: Escape from Azkaban, Unregistered Animagus. Azkaban ID: ᛈ-ᛉ-390. Status: Escaped CONVICT.

ᚎ: Neither the CONVICT nor the DECEASED entered into the Animagus Registry circa 1975 upon successfully achieving full, anatomically correct bi-directional transformations in violation of Shape-Shifter Code covering mandatory and timely registration and registration requirements, specifically “2 S.S.C. § § 1 - 3”.

Charges pending for CONVICT: Failure to register within one month of completing final form transformation. Failure to supply identifying details about form including species, coat color, markings, sex if different from human sex, and any injuries or body modification that manifests in animal form. Misuse of Transfiguration abilities to avoid capture by Aurors. (Misuse of Transfiguration abilities to escape Azkaban? Technically, not in the Code?) Penalties compounded after approximately 20 years of willful, knowing, and purposeful non-compliance.

ᚏ: From the Irish Animagus Registry, three names of 17 year olds who registered in July 1975 do not match with 1959+1 birth records of citizens within Ireland. OISÍN WALLACE also does not match death records for 1981 (stag), JOHN O’BOYLE is currently alive but has not updated his information since 1981 (rat), and CUÁN DORAN is currently alive but also has not updated his information since 1981 (dog).

 *** *** To Do: Owl the Irish-British DMLE liaison for an Irish Auror to consult. Is there a way to narrow down the list of JOHN O’BOYLEs? Given O’Boyle’s address, were they caught up in The Troubles? Given their age, did they just fail to keep up with the Registrar? Did these wizards ever exist, or did a group of British wizards evade proper registration? Is Sirius Black telling the truth? *** ***

##### The Morning After

Severus’ head felt like it was spinning. Fudge had brought along Aurors to take his and Black’s memory evidence of the events in the Shrieking Shack. Albus had been shocked to realize Pettigrew had been alive all these years, and there was quite the stir among former Order members. Supposedly, the order to administer the Dementor’s Kiss upon being taken into custody had been suspended until Remus could provide his memory evidence in the morning after moonset because, surprise surprise, Fudge didn’t believe Black’s direct memories extracted by a Ministerial Legilimens were enough, even though the wizard was in no shape to feed his mental shields were he an Occlumens. Severus had been kept most of the night by that infuriatingly thorough Junior Auror for his witness statement, and it was only the fact that he’d still been in Auror custody having to reanswer the Senior Auror’s questions that the former Death Eater in the room was _not_ in fact assisting _any_ escaped convict, Marked or otherwise, that kept him from being a suspect in Black’s disappearance. It wasn’t his fault that no one told Black he was no longer getting Kissed that night and managed to escape Auror custody. Severus was quite sure that Albus had his meddling fingers in that particular pie, but it wasn’t within his job description to care about that.

Not when he had to answer questions from someone else from the Ministry about Remus and his, until now, perfect Wolfsbane Potion compliance. No, he hadn’t been scratched or bitten, and neither had any of the three meddling Gryffindors, who thought they could take on an Azkaban escapee. Then Poppy needed a lycan friendly pain reliever that was particularly calibrated for not having had Wolfsbane, and Charity needed something from his quarters for Scabbers, who had managed to get out of his cage sometime in the night. And at some point in walking the pain reliever to the Hospital Wing, Severus had realized his sense of time had been shot to hell after hours of questioning because it was breakfast, and he was not alone in the corridor with a very surprised Charity openly talking about Remus’ lycanthropy. A First Year had overheard, and news would spread, and he would bet his best cauldron that Albus was going to exact free Wolfsbane Potion brewing out of him for bollocksing this up. But he couldn’t worry about that when the Headmaster had called him to the quarantine room in the Hospital Wing with a vial of two hours worth of Veritaserum.

The presence of other staff - Minerva and Remus propped up in a floating chair - didn’t help the surreality. Severus was quite certain he was having an out of body experience as he watched the thin body of a rat with patchy fur - Scabbers - be forced to turn into a man sitting in one of the spare chairs. Peter Pettigrew in the flesh. The stress on his body in rat form had eaten away the baby fat cheeks and the healthy plumpness everyone remembered of Pettigrew the young boy at Hogwarts. He was stuck with the suit he had last been wearing in his human form, which was now oversized in an almost comical way, and it only reinforced how thin he had gotten in the intervening years. Dark brown fur had become an uncombed head of dark brown hair. Beady-eyed, twitchy nose, long sharp nails at the end of bony fingers that rather resembled claws at human length. Looking rat-like was never an appealing human attribute, but it was worse when Pettigrew had bags under his eyes and an air of tired surrender. Albus calmly administered the Veritaserum, but it was Minerva who spoke first, “What do you answer to?”

“Scabbers”, Pettigrew had a hoarse voice from lack of use in this form, and despite hearing his voice years ago, Severus couldn’t remember if it was pitched a hair higher than normal or not from residual squeakiness. Minerva nodded, “For how long?”

Pettigrew looked confused and slightly pained from the truth-telling compulsion, “I can’t - I can’t remember -- It was nearly three paw.”

“I see what you mean by gibberish”, Albus spoke quietly to Remus, and Severus could only assume that this was how Pettigrew spoke last night in the Shrieking Shack. Minerva cleared her throat forcefully, which caused the younger wizards on staff to sit up a little straighter, muscle memory from Transfiguration lectures, “Being a werewolf means you are unfamiliar with animal-think, Mr. Lupin, and this is probably why Mr. Black seemed to understand him better last night. The majority of animal-think is intelligible across species.”

“Is this something that will wear off the longer he is human?”, Albus eyed the hourglass counting down the remaining time on the Veritaserum dosage, and Minerva had a particularly stern mask as she turned to stare at the Headmaster, though Severus wasn’t entirely sure why she seemed so defensive. After a few more precious grains of sand slipped away, she turned back to Pettigrew and slowly drew her wand, muttering an incantation under her breath until he was bathed in a peculiar kaleidoscope of blue and yellow light. She repeated her testing questions, “What is your name? How long have you been in your Animagus form?”

The blue light swelled to the majority until the yellow grew and infused into green, and Pettigrew’s pitch dropped slightly into a neutral voice, “My name is Peter Pettigrew, and I have been in my rat form for about 12 and a half years, since the first of November 1981.”

“How did you come to have a rat form?”, Albus took over the questioning.

“James, Sirius, and I wanted to keep Remus company in the Shrieking Shack. A werewolf holds no ill will towards other animals, so we decided to become Animagi.”

Remus nodded at Albus’ confirmatory glance, and Minerva tutted but kept her full opinion to herself. Pettigrew’s hands shifted along his wrists rhythmically, “You know there’s a complicated history with the British Animagus Registry and unlawful Tracking, false convictions, and entrapment, Professor, and it’s not exactly a well-kept secret that many British Animagi technically register in other ways. Many will gladly look the other way for a loveable, scruffy looking dog, but it’s not quite as easy for the anyone in the rodent and weasel families.”

“Proper registration is the least of our concerns”, Albus spoke loudly enough to cut off any rebuttals from the collected staff, “Do you remember your code name and war assignment? If so, you are released from your Vow of Secrecy and free to summarize.”

“Styx”, a round of stillness and shock from everyone other than Albus at the identity of a crucial informant on Death Eater activities for the Order, “I was to join the Death Eaters out of Hogwarts and feed information to the Order of the Phoenix. Was there going to be a raid on someone’s house, and the like. Passing on meeting notes to see if there were larger mobilizations than individual raids, especially on the international front. Sharing any applicable eavesdropping about what Death Eaters were doing, and - and I -”, Pettigrew grimaced until he lost the ability to keep the thought to himself, “- And I was trying to pass on _why_ individuals agreed to join the Dark Lord’s forces for Project Charon.”

“Erm”, Remus glanced at Albus, “I was a bit involved with other assignments. What was Charon?”

“Project Charon was supposed to help address Pureblood concerns about how the Ministry’s Mugglization efforts were demonizing their culture by providing answers other than anti-Muggle bias”, Pettigrew spoke matter-of-factly, but Severus knew it was a rather downplayed explanation. That effort was how the Ministry avoided a rogue resurgence of Death Eaters in the post-war years because the foundation for respectful compromise had been laid by wixen by doing the controversial work of listening to displaced werewolves, acknowledging that family tapestries were knotted into threads because spouses were no longer recognized, and giving angry teens and young adults a second chance. He had heard about it during the war, but many people who didn’t know any Death Eaters didn’t hear about Project Charon until the post-war phase began. Albus had a hard tone, uncharacteristically lacking in inquisitiveness, and he had settled in for a proper interrogation, “Were you compromised?”

“Yes.”

“How were you found out?”

“Certain eavesdropping was easier as a rat, and I was literally picked up and found.”

“Do you remember when this was?”

“Spring 1980.”

“Was this before or after the Secret-Keeper switch?”

“Which one?”

Albus glanced to Minerva, who was unperturbed by Pettigrew’s clarifying question, “I was the first Secret-Keeper for the Longbottoms, but everyone was a bit paranoid in those days. Many people were switching their Secret-Keepers on safehouses and removing or locking away memories. I believe the Longbottoms were on their second Secret-Keeper and the Potters were trying to decide between Sirius and Peter at that time.”

“I was supposed to be the first”, Pettigrew’s voice had gone a bit a flat, and the blue light was pulsating as the yellow struggled to maintain green, “Sirius needed to travel for an assignment, and there were kidnapping concerns. When he got a new assignment that brought him back to Britain, he was supposed to switch out and actually be Secret-Keeper.”

“Monitoring international Death Eater organizations, yes”, Albus waved away the otherwise seemingly important reasoning behind the Secret-Keeper switch, “Were you compromised after you became the Potters’ Secret-Keeper?”

“Yes.”

“Were you unable to follow the fail-safe procedure?”

“Obviously.”

“How? The Vow of Secrecy should have enforced it if you were to reveal your position as an informant.”

“The Dark Lord gave an order to override it.”

“That’s not possible”, Albus muttered to himself, twirling the end of his beard in thought. No one else in the room appeared to be in on what the fail-safe was in this situation. Severus’ had been an incredibly strong Compelling Charm to activate locking away memories, but he had a higher degree of skill in the Mental Arts than Pettigrew. No one wanted to ask, and Pettigrew’s hands were twisting over his wrists in a faster rhythm in an anxious humanization of self-barbering that seemed to signal their suspicions weren’t far off - _Dead men tell no tales_.

“Did Voldemort”, Pettigrew flinched, “use some sort of Dark magic?”

“Your question is too simple.”

Albus snorted, but Minerva’s face had paled in ashy horror. Severus could certainly remember her cast iron stomach for cleaning up the wreckage of duels and raids during the war, so his stomach was sympathetically twinging in unease if she was being so strongly affected. She began twirling her wand in a blaze of diagnostic spells until a double image of a heart was floating in front of her. One was yellow and beat a silent but steady rhythm, but the blue one struggled in spasms and had a gaping hole that was torn around the edges with barely an overlapping green section between the two of them. Shimmering gold Ogham lit up around the wound, and Minerva steadied herself as she dismissed the imaging.

“I don’t want to talk about it”, Pettigrew’s choked whisper was almost lost below the squelching sound of blood. He was panicking over something and had transitioned to clawing at his skin. Minerva calmly cast restraining and healing spells before turning to face Albus to explain, “I’ve tried to explain before that there is magic that simply cannot be categorized as Light or Dark, especially the older forms that draw on nature, blood, and life force. We are dealing with something specific to an Animagus, Albus, and it cannot be written away as Dark.”

“I’ve never encountered Light magic powerful enough to break a Vow of Secrecy, Minerva.”

Pettigrew spoke softly in an almost sing-song recitation:

Send forth the soul with bay’td breath  
To discover fur or feather, claw or wing  
Beware the iron-tongued with silk --  
Honeyed death awaits from the Controller of your soul.

“ _Month of Bay_ , Chapter One: Warning to Seekers”, Minerva spoke quietly, apparently recognizing an integral Animagus passage, “The Witch’s Familiar Talisman allows a Controller to capture the soul-shard of the Animagus form and thereby control the wix in a way that is utterly unimaginable for those who have not researched this topic, or - Gods forbid - encountered a victim.”

“I shall be speaking with you further on this”, Severus shivered at the curious finality in the Headmaster’s voice because the wizard sounded unnaturally interested in the magic that bested him, “However, I would rather not waste precious Veritaserum time on a lesson.”

“The earlier double image confirmed that Peter is under the control of a Witch’s Familiar Talisman, but there is no way to tell who a Controller is”, Minerva side eyed Albus in a manner that Severus hadn’t seen since a careless commentator in NEWT Transfiguration his Seventh Year. He barely remembered the unit on Animagi, but he could tell by her stony silence that the level of importance this talisman warranted was far more than a mere lesson. Albus inclined his head in acquiescence to his lack of knowledge, and Minerva continued to explain, if a bit stiffly, “A Controller creates a particular sachet, and whoever physically holds and addresses it has the ability to order the Animagus to do virtually anything.”

“The door you imagine for the Mental Arts is always cracked to allow orders through”, Pettigrew had taken to running his long nails over a section of the stone wall his chair was closest to, “The Dark Lord gave the order that I cannot kill myself, unless it is at his instruction, which voided the fail-safe. I never had to speak a word for him to find out where James and Lily were. I was ordered to fake my own death and wait for further instructions.”

“There are very particular cases where a Controller’s order is unable to be followed”, Minerva absentmindedly flicked her wand to adjust Pettigrew’s chair out of arm’s reach from the wall, “Certain magical skill sets that take more practice than innate talent, such as Legilimency, and magic the Animagus cannot already perform, such as university level Healing, cannot be done simply by ordering it. Often, orders must be very thorough and literal, or the Animagus can rules lawyer their way out of compliance.”

“I don’t understand why Voldemort wanted you to fake your own death”, Remus made a point of addressing Pettigrew, so the inferred question could still nudge at the Veritaserum, and he looked mildly annoyed at still being compelled to answer, “Phase one of Project Lethe.”

Remus glanced over to Severus, and he found a rekindled burning anger from the Auror interrogations that lasted all night. He never reported on assignments he wasn’t aware of because it was suicide to attempt to read the Dark Lord’s mind. Despite what the Order and the Ministry hoped, the Death Eaters were far more widespread and active than one spy could possibly know in a year. Pettigrew squinted in his direction as well, and Severus found it was easier to push his troublesome emotions aside as the blue light flared to prominence and retreated back into the green, “S-Severus wasn’t involved in that project. It entailed gaining control of Animagi, starting with Sirius. The Muggle death count was supposed to feed the ranks of Inferi --”

“I’m quite sure we don’t need a full recounting of how you faked your death”, Albus quietly but firmly cut Pettigrew off, and he looked relieved that the Veritaserum was no longer compelling the details of that story. However, he looked particularly twitchy as Albus continued a different line of questioning, “I find it quite curious that you were unable to transform back into your human form and reveal your side of the story before now. I can only assume you were ordered not to, but how can an order extend beyond the Controller’s death?”

“He’s . . . mostly dead”, Pettigrew frowned in the direction of his knees, “Just enough to not be outside the door, and I haven’t gotten any orders since 1981. But . . . I can’t close the door either, which should be my sign that I don’t have a Controller.”

“A seamless passing to a new Controller is possible in theory, but it’s very difficult in practice”, Minerva recast the spells to show the split hearts and studied the golden Ogham on the blue one closely, “There should be signs of a brief lapse into freedom, typically a scarred wound with the second Controller creating a new hole. Sometimes the fylgja itself will appear injured”, a tugging motion with her wand brought forth a wispy white copy of Scabbers from inside the wound with foreboding chain links extending out of sight, “Well, your fylgja is clearly still trapped, but it doesn’t show signs of a new Controller.”

Pettigrew looked uneasy and somewhat shocked to be looking at his Animagus form as it curiously sniffed the air. For all of the surprises in the past 24 hours, Severus did have to admit that seeing part of one’s soul manifest before your eyes had to be uncomfortable, let alone seeing it caught up in chains. It’s not like Pettigrew was accustomed to seeing his Animagus form when he had to be the one changing either, and this day was just about straining Severus’ limit of new information. Minerva ended the imaging spellwork and turned to Albus expectantly, “A Witch’s Familiar Talisman is not something that Animagi joke about or can fake. This clearly supports Sirius’ claim to be innocent, Albus.”

“We have to figure out a way to head off suspicion of Polyjuice, Inferi, or other identity concealing means when presenting the evidence”, Severus held back a sigh. Of course the conniving wizard had thought of ways to work around Pettigrew’s story of faking his death. He was willing to bet his second best cauldron that a strategy for the best optimization of a newly reinstated spy, who could provide early warning for how the Dark Lord’s attempts at being reborn from a horcrux shade were going, was already in the works. Last night’s anger had been replaced with a certain level of pity when Remus took in his childhood friend, and Severus almost couldn’t blame him for the change of heart. Even Pettigrew had a haunted look about him like he was currently regretting being found alive all these years later as the Headmaster made notes of which samples Poppy needed to collect for the identity verification spells that the Aurors would want to run.

“Why were you living as Ron’s pet, Scabbers?”, Remus tried to ask the question as gently as possible, but the way the Headmaster went silent made it clear that there were others as confused on that matter as he was. Pettigrew flexed his hand and took in the missing finger, “I was trying to find one of the underground Animagi in Knockturn Alley, so I could communicate with animal-think. All I needed was someone to help me to shift back, and then I was being rounded up with some of the other alley rats as discounted pets. A lot of the buyers were looking for cheap Potions ingredients, but some people were genuinely interested in keeping us as pets, thankfully. Percy felt sorry for me because of the missing toe, and I needed medical care for the scabbing, hence Scabbers. Got handed down to Ron, and here we are.”

Remus didn’t quite look satisfied with that answer, but Minerva cut him off from follow up questions with an almost imperceptible shake of her head. Severus’ Head of House senses were giving him the distinct impression that there was something about this area of Animagi that warranted a separate lecture as well. Albus cordially dismissed him and Remus with a nod and wandlessly opening the door, “I have a few Animagus specific questions that I only need Minerva’s assistance with left, and thanks to Pettigrew’s cooperation, I do not believe I will be needing any more Veritaserum doses, Severus.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Easter 1994: Madam Pomfrey’s Patronus doesn’t have a canon form, and I merely have a work / personal wand headcanon (neither descriptions were taken from canon for Poppy). Initially, I really wanted to include common European frog, _Rana temporaria_ , eggs, but that species is protogynous ([ftm](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sequential_hermaphroditism#Protogyny)) rather than protandrous ([mtf](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sequential_hermaphroditism#Protandry)). I wanted something other than the commonly thought of clownfish, and I wound up with humbug damselfish based on [this study](https://www.researchgate.net/publication/283746372_Male-to-female_sex_change_in_widowed_males_of_the_protogynous_damselfish_Dascyllus_aruanus). Hippocampia is used as a reference to [seahorse](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Seahorse#Reproduction) reproduction, though there’s no exact reason for specifically using _Hippocampus erectus_ , the lined seahorse, in the Hippocampia Potion.
> 
> June Full Moon 1994: Severus doesn’t have a canon middle name (father’s first name used based on pattern from other characters). I get the whole not caring about calendars while writing thing (I kinda shifted the Scabbers going missing, blood, Crookshanks shindig from winter to spring, according to a PoA [calendar](https://www.hp-lexicon.org/calendars-harry-potter-novels/day-day-calendar-prisoner-azkaban/) I didn’t find until the end of this chapter). However, the werewolf writer in me is pained when I have to play fast and loose with lunar timing because canon has the full moon on the [6th](https://harrypotter.fandom.com/wiki/6_June) when it was actually the [23rd](https://www.fullmoon.info/en/fullmoon-calendar/1994.html).
> 
> Werewolf Registry number is loosely based on on the [NI Number](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/National_identification_number#United_Kingdom) format, but makes a point of mostly using Remus’ birthday (10 March 1960) and an indicator for being turned as a Child. Sirius also does not have a canon middle name. Azkaban ID as seen in Sirius’ [Wanted Poster](https://harrypotter.fandom.com/wiki/Sirius_Black?file=Wanted.jpg) uses Eohl / Algiz [ᛉ] as the second rune and Gyfu / Gebo [ᚷ] as the first, but the versions [minus hands](https://www.yourprops.com/Azkaban-Prison-Sign-Sirius-replica-movie-prop-Harry-Potter-and-the-Prisoner-of-Azkaban-2004-YP60014.html) show a bit of an exaggerated Peorð / Peorth [ᛈ] instead. The Ogham letters indicating notes were chosen for sequential progress - Muin [ᚋ], Gort [ᚌ], nGéadal / Gétal [ᚍ], Straif / Straiph [ᚎ], and Ruis [ᚏ].
> 
> Headcanon that wixen who don’t want to enter the British Animagus Registry may try to enter a different country’s registry. In this, James used the name OISÍN (“[little deer](https://www.behindthename.com/name/oisi10n)”) WALLACE (“[foreigner, stranger](https://surnames.behindthename.com/name/wallace)”), Peter used JOHN ([popular](https://www.irishpost.com/life-style/the-100-most-popular-baby-names-in-ireland-in-1965-106861)) O’BOYLE (“[son of + pledge?](https://surnames.behindthename.com/name/o02boyle)”), and Sirius used CUÁN (“[little wolf, hound](https://www.behindthename.com/name/cua10n)”) DORAN (“[exile, wanderer](https://www.behindthename.com/name/doran)”).
> 
> I don’t particularly want to delve into UK criminal law for a fanfic, so I’m just going with a guess based on what I’ve heard in my country. [Involuntary manslaughter](https://criminal.findlaw.com/criminal-charges/involuntary-manslaughter-overview.html) usually refers to an unintentional killing that results from criminal negligence or recklessness, or from committing an offense such as a DUI. It differs from voluntary manslaughter in that the victim's death is unintended.
> 
> Morning After: The [fylgja](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fylgja) (pl. fylgjur) is used here as the name of the Animagus soul-shard, and in certain high level Transfiguration circles, can also be used as a name for the Animagus form itself. The fylgjur have several meanings in the Norse sagas, but I particularly want to pull out “the animals reflect the character of the person they represent”, a connection to shape shifting, and an acceptable alternative for non-Native or Indigenous people wanting to describe a spirit animal or totem animal without misusing a closed culture’s terminology.


End file.
